Once More
by workerbee73
Summary: K/L, post-finale. She'd been having those dreams again. The ones of strange places surrounded by blackness. Floating in the empty void. Of cold and dark and unknowing. Of him.
1. Chapter 1

**Once More** -- K/L post-finale fic (chapter 1/??)  
**Rating:** M  
**Word Count:** ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­3,507  
**Spoilers: **Through Daybreak 2 & 3  
**Disclaimer: **It all belongs to RDM & Co.

**Author's note: **

This fic is my way of working through post-finale despair (no, I was NOT a fan of the K/L ending). The idea was thought up by someone much smarter than me, I'm just running with it to see where it takes me. Again, basically just an exercise in working through my grief.

_**A few things to note going in:**_

1. For this fic, I've given up the pretence of frak. We're going straight to the hard stuff—because I can.

2. I'm playing fast and loose with history (if RDM can make stuff up, I can too).

3. Timeline—This story takes place no earlier than 10,000 BC-ish. I want completely human humans, nomadic tribes, language skills, etc. I'd prefer indoor plumbing and air conditioning too, but I won't get greedy.

4. Don't worry—I'll keep on writing "Borrowed Time." But this is part of my therapy, so I may end up doing two serials at once (because I'm sick like that….)

Allrighty then. Here we go.

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**CHAPTER 1**

He saw her face everywhere.

It was like a dream he couldn't escape. A waking dream—a conscious nightmare. He could still feel her skin under his fingertips, hear her voice when the breeze blew a certain way. Her ghost had left him but he was haunted. Doomed to remember every part of her, while she found peace.

_Peace_. What a profoundly ridiculous concept. What a sick, twisted joke.

He envied her. He hated her. She had found her peace, but he had paid the price. She traded her presence for his sanity. He felt it every moment of the day and then some. Sleep didn't help. If anything, it only made the visions grow stronger. Flying, falling. Lips and mouth and tongue. Arms and legs and breasts and every part of her held out for him to see. A filter over the world. Her breath in his ear, a constant humming. The melody of her laughter. Sometimes he would laugh too—at himself. At what he'd become.

He was glad he hadn't taken Tigh and Helo up on their offer to join them. Besides, who'd want to live with a madman? He'd become that monster of children's nightmares—haunted, tormented, resembling the demons of ancient stories. The crazy old hermit in the wilderness. The scary old man in the dark. Devouring light and life and happiness like a black hole. He had become that void.

He knew he wasn't old, but he felt old. He felt ancient, like he was living out yet another life of the same twisted pain. First on Caprica, the moment she opened the door and he knew that she belonged to his brother. Next, after the end of the worlds, when she shouted her love for him to the skies, only to run into another man's arms. And now, in this beautiful new paradise, the new home of man and cylon alike, she'd left him for another elusive lover—peace. She left because fate told her to. Because her purpose was complete. Gods help him, but if he ever heard words like Fate or Destiny again, he would dismember the speaker. Tear him limb from fucking limb until all that was left was his desire—his _choice_—to silence that awful chorus. For Lee Adama didn't believe in fate.

He didn't believe in much of anything these days. He cracked a weary, bitter smile. Yeah, it was best that he just removed himself from everyone and everything. He wasn't fit company for any creature, and he certainly wasn't safe to be around.

He just kept on moving. Walking, wandering through endless fields and meadows, across rivers and over mountains. Across the beautiful landscape he'd so foolishly sought to explore before it was taken away. Before she had gone. He couldn't tell anymore why he kept going. _Was he running from her?_ If so, he certainly hadn't succeeded in escaping. _Trying to find her, perhaps?_ He'd definitely had no luck there. It was as if she was gone and present all at the same time. An echo. A shadow of something that used to be.

His brain struggled to make peace with the concept of what she was. After a while, he just gave up, finally realizing that the woman he loved died long ago in front of his very eyes—pure logic and reason and fact that he'd been too blind to see. Too stupid to recognize the truth, to reject the image that appeared before him in the nebula. Too stupid to acknowledge that this creature would never really love him. She was merely a fragment of the woman he loved so long ago. She could never truly love him back. She wasn't even fucking real. Just a guide, a mystical signpost sent to point them home. Shame she decided to pick on him, gathering up his love to see her through her prophetic mission. And, being the stupid, foolish idiot that he was, he was only too happy to oblige. Too eager to ignore the cool logic and reason that had always guided him. _That had certainly worked out well_. Giving in to his emotions had become the sure-fire way to break him. He should have learned that lesson long ago.

Some days, he wished he could just lie down and give up. Surrender to this pointless existence. The irony was overwhelming. Here in the promised land, on the surface of the very place he struggled and sacrificed and bled to find—it had become his own personal hell. He was trapped in memory and self-loathing, with no place to catch his breath and no way to close his eyes and not see her.

He envied his father and Roslin. They must be dead by now—two lovers entwined, still and unmoving on the same mountaintop. Together. At least they had that. All he was left with was the burden. The burden to remember her. The curse of remembering everything.

He set his course due North. Through mountains and deserts, where the sun became hotter and the air drier, burning his lungs and scorching his skin. He didn't care. It felt good. The only thing that felt good anymore was pain. Receiving it and inflicting it. He'd always been a good warrior, but he never had a thirst for the kill until now. It was as if each animal he felled was some kind of victory against the cosmos. Against the natural order of things. He honed his knife skills and fashioned new and more fearsome weapons. Spears and stakes and javelins—tools of war that required the effort of his entire body. It felt good—the vibrations pounding through him as he chased down his prey. The taut stretch of muscle and sinew as he threw a spear with razor-like precision. The pleasure of taking a life, as if it would somehow put him out of his own misery. It was an added bonus that he was talented. At least he'd have a good chance at sticking around here longer than some of the less bloodthirsty colonials. Good thing he'd been so attentive during survival training exercises all those lifetimes ago.

Months came and went. He didn't see a single soul. If not for the dialogue constantly running in his head, he'd probably forget language altogether. The desert gave way to rolling foothills and slightly greener lands. He walked past oceans and seas, an endless blue oblivion stretching on for miles. But he was haunted, driven. He had no time to stop and enjoy any of it. There was quiet, but there was no calm. There was stillness, but no rest. As much as he tried to escape it, it was always with him. He saw the color of her eyes in the speckled green and brown leaves of the olive tree, the shade of her hair in the color of sunrise reflected against the tall grass. She filled his senses; he could not escape.

What a curse—what a cruel fucking joke that he should be tasked with remembering. As if he could ever forget.

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She woke up with a start, sweat covering her skin in the cool night air.

She'd been having those dreams again. The ones of strange places surrounded by blackness. Floating in the empty void. Of cold and dark and unknowing. Of _him_.

The images swirled in her head as her body pulled itself out of sleep. She saw his face, sharpened and honed, a collage of planes and angles. Austere and beautiful. And his eyes—those eyes. Like nothing she'd ever seen before. The rich, clear color of the sky on a cloudless day.

Actions mixed together with the images, playing out strange scenes inside her mind. Floating, suspended, gazing at him through layers of mist, swirling orange clouds all around them, as if they were being swept up in a sunset. Locked away in a cold, gray place. Trapped in a cage, screaming to be let out. Screaming for them to follow her. Weeping until she ran out of tears, until her throat became dry and raw. Trying to warn them. Trying to bring them home.

And then, _he_ was there. Standing in the cage with her, offering her words of comfort. It was strange, because he didn't have a gentle face, but he was so gentle with her. So careful. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He kissed her with that beautiful mouth. Told her he believed her. Gave her a gift to keep until they met again. She was still scared and terrified, but somehow she knew she'd be ok if she could only stay with him, be near him somehow.

She still remembered those haunted, piercing eyes as her hands moved to brush the hair away from her face, mimicking his actions in the dream. Taking several long breaths to calm herself, she got up from her sleeping pallet and made her way to the entrance of the cave. Dawn was about to break in the distance; she could hear the birds coming to life with their songs. She stood there for a moment, trying to remember that the dream wasn't real. She shook herself slightly, seeking to break the trance, and waited until the sun climbed over the horizon before moving again.

The best thing to calm her mind was to get those images out of her head. She knew only one way to do that. Walking back inside, she took out her painting supplies—mostly pigments gathered from plants and berries, mixed with a kind of paste that would adhere to the stone walls of her home. Falling into an almost trance-like state, she began to move her fingers across the rough walls, smearing paint here and there. Color and shapes flew past her, but her eyes really didn't ever see them until she was done. The curse of being an oracle; she was merely an instrument of the gods' will.

She stepped back after a few minutes, her vision finally coming back into focus. What she saw was her dreams looking back at her. She saw the two lifeless birds hanging next to each other in the sky, saw the shape of his hands as they reached to touch her face. Finally, she saw those eyes staring back at her—only this time they were partially obscured behind the tall grasses of a nearby field. _That's strange_, she thought. Why had he suddenly come out of the claustrophobic darkness and into this world? She must finally be losing it. Months of having the same dreams would probably do that to a person. Best not to focus on it too much. She already felt like her sanity was too often hanging by a thread.

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to shut out the vivid images in front of her. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she put away her paints and stepped outside. She made her way down the hillside, heading towards the camp. There were times it would have been nice to live closer to others, but she also appreciated the solitude. And besides, an oracle had to be removed from the world, her physical separation signifying her spiritual significance. Oh well, at least she wasn't some kind of hermit in the desert, she thought. Things could definitely be worse.

Soon she saw the makeshift tents and huts of her adopted people, and it made her smile. She really didn't belong anywhere, but these people had given her a home. She walked past the children and dogs playing, past the old and young mothers gossiping and cooking, towards the largest hut in the back.

Stepping carefully through the entrance, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She smiled when she saw the familiar figure sitting inside. His weathered face smiled back at her, making the lines around his black eyes increase at an impossible rate.

"Good morning, my daughter."

"Good morning, my Chief." It was their usual greeting and response.

"Do you still hear the voices across the sea?"

"Without fail."

"Just remember to bring yourself back before sunset."

She smiled a different smile this time. A sad smile. "I always do."

Their daily ritual completed, he continued with more mundane things. "Have you seen Maala? She was asking about you earlier. I think she's going to try and convince you to take her on the hunt."

The Chief's five-year old granddaughter was a complete hellion—and an absolute favorite of Kara's. Ever since she'd come here almost two years ago--with no memory of who or what she was-- she and the child had bonded with one another, and it was rare she'd go a day without seeing the little girl. Kara frowned. "She's too young. She can't even throw a spear."

"She thinks she's invincible—much like her _malawe_. She's convinced that if she's with you, the two of you can do anything together."

Kara smiled begrudgingly. "And what do _you_ think?"

"I think she will be safe with you." That point settled, his voice became somber. "How are your visions?"

She pursed her lips. "Difficult. I keep having the same ones about the blackness, being locked away, trying to convince these strangers that I should lead them somewhere."

"And where is that?"

She shrugged. "I hardly know. I only know that I have to take them somewhere. But no one believes me." Except _him_, she mentally corrected. She didn't mention the man in her dreams. It wouldn't make any sense anyway, and the Chief would be none too pleased to find her dreaming about kissing strange men. Sacred oracles were supposed to be free from the confines of carnal pursuits. It was a well-established fact that enlightenment from the gods was a solitary pursuit—a virginal one. Sometimes oracles later married once their visions went away, or sometimes they just disappeared altogether. Vanished to be with their spiritual masters. For Kara, it was not a comforting thought. But the fact remained—if her mind was married to the gods, then her body certainly couldn't be joined with any mere mortal. The thought was at once comforting and sad.

_But helpful_, she reminded herself. In a way it provided a good deal of cover. If not for her uncanny abilities, she would have been married off long ago, and would now be sitting with those young mothers she passed earlier, one baby on her hip and one on the way. The life of an oracle certainly gave her more freedom, even if it was a lonely kind of freedom. She shook herself away from those distracting thoughts, and noticed a cloud had settled on the Chief's face.

"What troubles you, my Chief?"

He sighed heavily, his posture giving way to the enormous burden he carried. "The Northern tribes are warring again. I was brought news this morning of three more raids last night. We cannot sit by forever. We will have to take action soon." He looked back at her. "Your visions haven't made mention of these things, have they?"

"No, not yet." She couldn't bear to see the haunted look on his face, so she continued quickly. "But I'm sure they will soon."

"I hope so, my daughter. I need wisdom from the gods before taking our sons and daughters to war."

At that moment, they were interrupted by the abrupt opening of the hut's makeshift door.

"Father? Father! Have you heard the news? More raids last night, and even one of the Kulari tribesmen was killed in the fire. We cannot let this stand, we must take action right away—"

"Calm yourself, my son. The Oracle and I were just discussing the matter."

The tall young warrior stopped suddenly, noticing her presence for the first time. The harsh features of his face softened for a moment, and he continued carefully. "Kara, I apologize. I didn't realize you were here. It's just that I have urgent business to discuss with my father—"

"She knows, my son. I have been telling her and asking for her guidance."

His black eyes narrowed, a frown creasing his brow. "Surely this is nothing for her to worry about. This is a topic for warriors, not for oracles. If we need guidance from the gods, we can certainly consult her. But Father, we need no such guidance here. Our path is very plain. We must go to war."

His posture was rigid, his strong shoulders tense and ready to fight. He was always looking for a fight, Kara mused—when he wasn't looking at her. She loved her Chief dearly, but she had no such affection for his firstborn son, Nasr. When he wasn't playing the condescending heir to the throne, she could swear he was planning out some future life with her, assuming that one day his father's favorite daughter would belong to him as the new Chief. _Over my dead body_, Kara thought bitterly. She'd rather vanish into thin air and commune with the gods than be joined to that man.

The Chief's weary voice continued. "War is never plain or simple, my son. And I will not take such action without the blessing of the gods." He looked back at Kara. "I want you to go into the hills and see what your visions say. We need to know what our path is. Take Maala, if you wish. I'm sure she'd love to accompany you."

Kara bit her lip, and nodded. She wasn't sure if she would be able to bring back anything helpful in the way of spiritual guidance, but she had to try. She certainly couldn't leave their fate to Nasr's rash judgments. "Of course. I'll leave immediately."

"Thank you, my daughter. I know you will find the way. You are touched by the gods." He reached out to trace a strand of her long blonde hair where it rested on her pale shoulder, an anomaly in the midst of her dark-skinned, dark-haired kinsmen. "You have been chosen by the gods to lead us, Kara. And lead us you will."

Kara blinked back tears as she looked up at his face. _So much faith in her_. She prayed it wasn't misplaced. She nodded once, and stood up to leave.

She would find a way. Or die trying.


	2. Chapter 2

Once More K/L post-finale fic (chapter 2/??)  
Rating: M  
Word Count: ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­4,198  
Spoilers: Through Daybreak 2 & 3  
Disclaimer: It all belongs to RDM & Co.  
_**  
**_**And now, the Crazy Space Magic saga of primitive!amnesia!Kara and pissed-off!warrior!Lee continues**….

**CHAPTER 2**

"Like this, Kara?"

The little girl hurled the spear with all her might, succeeding only in making it glance off the nearest tree.

"Almost, little one." Kara smiled affectionately. "Remember, you have to aim with your eyes and follow through with your shoulder, like so." She threw her own adult-sized spear with perfect precision at the center of the old tree trunk, the rock-tipped point sinking effortlessly into the wood.

Maala ran forward to retrieve both spears. She returned to Kara's side and tried again. This time her aim was better, but she still lacked the force necessary to make it stick. Now it was Kara who walked forward to retrieve the child-sized spear.

"You're getting better little one, but you still need practice. Go down to the stream and practice on the fish. Let's see how many you can catch before dusk."

The girl's dark eyes widened in expectation. "Will you come too?"

"No, I'm going to stay here and take a nap." She ruffled Maala's dark mop of hair playfully. "Go ahead. If you need anything, I'll be right here."

The girl shrugged her small shoulders at first, considering the plan. She scowled, then her face magically brightened, the disappointment mercurial and fleeting. "Okay. But I won't come back until I have a dozen fish! I'm going to practice and practice until I can kill a leopard just like you!"

Kara grinned at her enthusiasm. "Well, you better get started then. Killing leopards takes a lot of practice."

With that, Maala whooped exuberantly and rushed down the hillside.

Left alone with her thoughts, Kara knelt down and spread out her fur blanket near the base of the old cedar tree. It was a favorite place of hers and Maala's, close enough to hear the stream, but high enough to have a nice view of the valley below. She often came here when she needed to think. And today she needed more than that. Today she needed to understand her visions, to give her people guidance before all hell broke loose with the Northern tribes.

She opened the pouch tied around her waist and took out a pinch of the moss-colored powder inside. "Oracle dust" her people called it. It was made from mixing several herbs together, one of them poisonous, and it was supposed to enhance dreams and visions. She hated using it—hated the intensity of it and the way she felt powerless against what she saw. She tried never to use the vile stuff if at all possible, but sometimes it couldn't be avoided. And today was one of those days. She didn't have time to wait around for the answers to reveal themselves; she had to go in search of them now.

Stretching out on the blanket, she placed the dab of power under her tongue and waited. This was the worst part. The visions would be stronger this time, and sometimes it felt like she wouldn't be able to pull back. _Get over it, Kara. It must be done_. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes tightly, concentrating on the conflict with the tribes to the North, praying for some kind of guidance.

Slowly, she felt the powder starting to take effect. Her body began to feel heavy, like she was tied to a rock that was being pushed over a cliff. Falling, then floating, the images began to dance inside her head, shifting from moment to moment, as if she could only catch a brief glimpse of each scene.

She was trapped in the cage again, speaking in angry tones with a haggard old man. He was displeased with her, but she no longer cared. The only thing that mattered was that he believe her. Next, she was locked inside some strange, dark place, pouring over maps, trying to find out where to go. She remembered clutching a figureine in her hand—the figureine _he'd_ given her. The world dissolved into blackness.

The visions then threw her backwards, twisting and contorting her body painfully—showing things she'd never seen before. She heard his voice above her, and looked up to see him standing there smiling. He looked so young—it must have been lifetimes ago. He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. They just stood there for a moment, foolishly grinning at one another like a couple of children.

Suddenly, she was jerked forward into a different scene. She didn't see this time so much as she _felt_. Felt the bare skin of his chest press up against hers. Felt his lips against her neck as he kissed and bit her shoulder gently, whispering soft words in her ear. He was everywhere at once—moving over her, around her—_inside_ of her. It was amazing. So unbearably good that she began to cry out his name, wanting to scream and weep at the same time from the sheer pleasure of it. Then suddenly, it was another man's face in front of hers—someone she didn't recognize. She recoiled instantly, but that vision was gone, replaced with another scene. He was there again, the real him, and he was yelling at her. So angry. He said something especially hurtful just then, and instinctively, she hit him as hard as she could. And he hit her right back. Her jaw throbbed from the force of the impact.

Before she could catch her breath, she was hurled forward again. Just fleeting visions, but all having to do with him: being welcomed back from a long journey, giving her an embrace and a kiss that surprised both of them. Fighting alongside each other in a forest—two warriors made to be in battle together. Flying like birds in the sky together. Tangled up in each others' arms, desperate to feel his skin against hers, his mouth on hers. Trying so hard to get close to him but always pulling herself back. Wanting to reach out to him so much but knowing that she shouldn't—she mustn't. Knowing that this wasn't meant to be. Both of them angry and bitter, finding comfort in the arms' of others, but always drawn back to each other. Circling each other, hovering, wary. Finally giving in—spending one starry, perfect night together, before she awoke at dawn and knew that she had to leave him. Leave him or the gods would be angry; leave him or risk destroying him too. She was never meant for this world, for him. She couldn't take the chance that he would be harmed because of her weakness—her incomprehensible need for this man.

Then the visions pulled her further along, and before she knew it, she was drowning in a whirlpool. Horrible images surrounded her: being trapped inside a different kind of cage—a softer cage, with a prophet who whispered gentle words in her ear about destiny and the divine will. Killing him over and over again, trying to destroy his message, only to have it come back again. She felt her sanity start to splinter, and her body began to writhe from the trauma of it.

She finally escaped and found _him_ again, but it was too late. She'd heard the prophet's message loud and clear, and she knew what waited for her. She tried everything to make it go away, to paint over the cracks inside her mind. She exchanged kisses and blows with him, but there was nothing to stop the madness that threatened to swallow her. The door was open for her, waiting. All she had to do was walk through it. This was her destiny. She knew she didn't want to—she didn't want to leave him, but there was no other way. She'd never really had any choice at all. She heard his voice in her ears, begging her, pleading with her not to go. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that she had to do this. Then, she stepped through the doorway. The lights blinded her, and all she could hear were his screams—

_Screams_.

More screaming. But not his—they were Maala's screams. Jolted out of her trance, she jumped to her feet, her hand grabbing for her spear while she sank into an instinctive crouch. Her eyes slowly pulled the world back into focus, the effects of the drug slowing her reaction time and clouding her vision. She saw Maala running towards her, frightened. Hollering and pointing to something behind her. She moved her eyes just over the little girl's shoulder. Slowed down by the drug, they finally found their focus, and her heart nearly stopped beating at the sight before her. She felt the spear drop from her fingertips.

This couldn't be real. There was no way it was real.

Impossible, and yet—there he was, standing not ten feet away. The profile and angles of his face were a perfect replica, his eyes that same unearthly shade of blue. His hair was a bit longer and his skin was darker from the sun, but it was still him. The man from her dreams and her visions—the man who'd been haunting her for months now, standing before her, in the flesh. She had brought him to life.

He had the same hazy look of disbelief on his face. His eyes were dazed, unfocused—but they were locked onto hers. As if she were a spring of water in the desert. As if she were the only person on earth. His breathing was labored, and for the first time, she noticed that he looked unsteady on his feet. His hand was clutching his side, and she gasped to see bright red streaming out between his fingers. But none of that could take his single-minded gaze away from her.

Expending an impossible amount of energy, he sucked in a final breath and whispered one word. A single, solitary word that shook the very foundations of her soul, as if he'd shouted it with the force of a tidal wave.

"_Kara_."

And then, just as the sound escaped his lips, his knees promptly buckled and he collapsed to the ground.

----------------------------------------------------

_Ouch._

He really needed to give up shaving. Especially when his makeshift razor was a pocketknife. It really wasn't worth all this trouble.

Curious that he should hang on to the old routines. He supposed it was years of military training that made him unable to simply give in and grow a beard. Too many years of scrupulously clean standards, too many rules and regs. _The oldest habits were always the hardest to break_. He could stand having his hair a little longer, but he wasn't prepared to go completely caveman just yet—although a few more weeks of working with a pocketknife for a straight blade and he might consider it.

He knelt down next to the bank of the stream and splashed some water on his face. Sitting down, he slowly stretched out his legs and arms, his limbs aching from the miles he'd walked earlier that morning. He really shouldn't be stopping; he was wasting valuable daylight just sitting here, but the sun felt so nice and the sound of the nearby water was soothing. It seemed to calm his mind a bit, so he gave into the urge and leaned back on his elbows, tilting his face back to absorb the sun's warmth.

A simple pleasure—a momentary reprieve. There were so very few left in his world.

He lost track of how long he sat that way, mind clear and body lax, drifting in and out of sleep. It wasn't until he heard a very soft rustling noise in the distance that he opened his eyes.

Suddenly, his body became alert, his hand reaching out to grab the spear to his right with the very slightest of movements. Months of living in the wilderness had taught him that awareness kept you alive, and stillness bought you time to make a plan, whether it was attack or escape.

His breath held, he scanned the tall grass along the edge of the stream, searching for movement. _There it was_. A tiny bit of black bobbing up and down behind the grass, about fifty yards away. It was too noisy for a predator, and too slow for a gazelle or antelope. He waited, his curiosity getting the better of him for the first time in months. Then he saw her.

A small girl, probably no more than four or five years old, was wading out into the stream. She was wearing a short leather tunic, her chin-length black hair ruffled by the breeze. Clutching her tiny spear, the little girl hunched over, concentrating on aiming at the bottom of the nearest pool. After a moment she thrust her weapon into the water, grunting in frustration when she came up empty handed.

She began to wander down the bank of the stream, unknowingly closing the distance between them. Every few minutes she would stop and aim again, hurling her spear into the water, but to no avail. Growing weary of her fruitless pursuit, she stopped to take a break by skipping across the stones near the edge, giggling and laughing as she tried to keep her balance.

Lee was fascinated. It had been so long since he'd seen another person—and ages since he seen a child. He'd forgotten the silly noises they made, the intermittent squeals and giggles mixed with restless movement. He just sat still, completely enthralled by her energy, her carefree laughter. It was a joy to watch, albeit a little sad. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way.

She was making her way closer to him now, only about fifteen yards away. Perched on the top of a large rock, she looked up and stopped suddenly, seeing him for the first time. Her eyes looked frightened for only a moment, immediately changing into a look of curiosity. Lee held his breath, certain that he must look like a terrifying figure, crouched there holding a spear and staring back at her. But she didn't seem to be deterred. Instead she was quite the opposite, moving towards him with a curious, friendly smile upon her face. Stopping a few feet in front of him, she tilted her head the side and appeared to be studying him, trying to decide if he was worth her time. Lee held perfectly still and stared back, amazed that she wasn't frightened of the hardened warrior in front of her.

She must have decided he was acceptable, because after a few moments she began babbling away in a strange language, her small size belying a big, melodic voice. Lee knit his brow and shook his head, trying to let her know that he couldn't understand the unfamiliar words. After a moment she seemed to understand, and she grew quiet, becoming perplexed and frustrated. Then suddenly, her impish face transformed itself once again, melting into a triumphant smile. Laying her hand on her chest, she spoke in a slow, clear voice.

"Maala." She nodded and waved her hand at him, as if she were trying to teach a small child.

"Maa-la," he carefully repeated back, his voice sounding strange and foreign after so many months of silence.

She grinned and nodded eagerly, her face expectant as she awaited a reply. It took a moment, but then he understood. His placed his left hand over his heart and responded in kind.

"Lee."

She wrinkled her nose for a moment, trying to make sense of the strange sound before repeating it back to him.

"Leeeee."

He nodded and felt his face break into the first genuine smile in what seems like years. "Yes," he continued, his voice growing stronger with practice. "Lee."

"Leeeee!" she squealed and suddenly leapt forward to take his hand. Gripping it tightly, she pulled him along, and resumed jabbering in her nonsensical language. Stunned, he followed, completely at the mercy of this pint-size warrior. Her energy and fearlessness were mesmerizing, and for a moment, he forgot about the child clutching his hand, his mind involuntarily thrown back into a memory of another hellion with a mop of blonde hair. Reprimanding himself for the mental slip, he concentrated on being led by the babbling child. She seemed excited to tell him something, leading him back to the edge of the deeper part of the stream. Pulling him to lean over the water, she pointed at the fish swimming below the surface.

_Ahh, now he understood_. She was attempting to practice her fishing skills but was having no luck. She motioned for him to try and he complied, slowly taking aim at one of the medium-sized fish. Once in position, he held perfectly still a few seconds, then struck with lightning speed, skewering the fish in a clean, graceful move. The little girl clapped her hands and squealed in delight. Tugging on his arm and jumping up and down, she kept repeating the same word which he assumed was _"Again! Again!"_ For the second time today, he found himself smiling back. How could he refuse?

They continued that way for a long stretch of time, him catching fish with her as his delighted audience. Finally, he was able to get her to try again as well, and through a mixture of hand signals and blended languages, he was able to give her a couple of pointers about aiming and holding perfectly still before striking. On the third attempt, it worked, and she was able to skewer a tiny fish on the end of her small spear. He knelt down beside her to examine her catch, and nodded in approval. She squealed again and threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking him down from the sheer surprise of it.

Feeling her tiny frame pressing against him, he was overwhelmed with the strangest sense of affection for the child, and was overcome by an equally odd feeling of protectiveness. Before he knew it, he'd begun to hug her back.

That's when he heard another noise in the tall grass. A sound he knew only too well.

There were only two animals he knew of that emitted that particular kind of growl. And both were completely lethal. He froze, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the sound. _About ten yards to the right, and slightly over his shoulder_. Ever so softly, he pulled Maala away to face him, pressing a finger to his lips and willing her with his eyes to understand just how serious the situation was. She immediately understood, and her body became still as well, her eyes widening in fright.

Without moving his head, he tried to get a look at the predator. If it were a panther, it would charge headlong like a bull, relying on brute force to subdue its prey. If a leopard, it would parry and leap through the air, relying on speed and agility to make the kill. Either way, the odds weren't good at this distance. Especially when he wasn't just defending himself.

Then he heard a second, higher-pitched growl.

_Leopard it was, then_. He mind raced to think of the best defense, as time was of the essence. He'd been through enough of these situations to know that it was only a matter of seconds before the animal would strike. Making his decision, he smoothly swept the child behind him and faced the tall grass. At just that moment, he saw the giant animal careening towards him, flying through the air with teeth and claws bared. He leapt at the same instant, meeting the creature in mid air, thrusting his spear upwards and into its side. It was a good hit, but it left his right side unprotected just long enough to for the predator to sink its claws into the side of his rib cage.

He felt the flesh tearing and burning, the pain starting to spread along the entire right half of his body, but he held fast, pushing the spear farther into the animal's chest. They hung there for what seemed like an eternity before falling to the ground. Using one last thrust, he pushed upwards again, and felt the beast's strength give way.

After that, his vision began to blur. This wasn't good; the wound was deeper than he thought. He laid there for a moment, then slowly got up, searching for the little girl. She was by his side in an instant, crying, hands clutched tightly around his neck once more. He did his best to comfort her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders while the other moved to stop the bleeding coming from his side. He felt the warm liquid seep through his fingers and soak his tanks.

At that moment Maala looked down and saw the blood as well. Her face was frightened for a moment, then, deciding her course in an instant, she pulled away and tugged again at his free hand. Slowly, painfully, she began to lead him up the hillside, her frightened words increasing in pitch and volume as they climbed. It almost sounded like she was calling for help, although he couldn't imagine to whom.

His vision became spotty, and he knew he was losing too much blood too fast. All those years of fighting, he knew when a man was too badly wounded to be carried off the battlefield. After years of war, of surviving, now it was his turn. He always figured he'd die in battle; at least this time, it was for a good cause. Lightheaded, he followed his new friend—_his last friend_, he supposed—and felt his mind begin to drift. The images and memories began to mix together in his head.

The shape of her lips … the mischievous glint in her eyes. The sound she made in the back of her throat when he kissed her. The feel of her face under his fingertips. So much pain. So much wasted time. So much separation, when all he wanted to do was see her again.

_Maybe now_, he felt with a sigh of relief—_now, he would finally be allowed to join her_.

He was jolted back to full consciousness as they reached the top of the hill. Maala was shouting at someone. He followed her, his legs becoming increasingly heavy with each labored step. His eyes focused on the figure in the distance, and he felt his world skid to a halt, along with his feet.

_Unbelievable_.

Death must have come for him quicker than he thought. Funny, he'd lived his life always so sure that his atheist assumptions about the afterlife (or lack thereof) were correct—but, as he took in the vision before him, he'd never been so glad to be wrong.

Maybe it was just the final nerve impulses in his brain as his consciousness faded. Maybe it was just some kind of chemically-induced hallucination as his life slipped away. He couldn't be sure, but he didn't care. All he cared about at that moment was her. Seeing her again.

It had been so long.

She looked different, he thought distractedly. She was stretched out on a blanket under an ancient tree, bare arms and legs spread out and moving, as if she was in the midst of some vivid dream. She was dressed like a native, a short tunic belted at the waist, the animal skins bleached almost white by the sun, nearly matching the pale blonde of her hair.

Suddenly, she was awake; the little girl's cries having roused her. She immediately jerked her body upright, folding herself into a traditional fighting stance, eyes struggling to focus. She was breathtaking. Her face was slightly flushed from the exertion, lips parted, her long hair falling around her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes finally found their focus, and a look of shock passed over her face, immediately followed by recognition. And wonder.

She'd been waiting for him. She'd come back for him.

With his last bit of effort, he spoke one final word. A name that was imprinted behind his eyes, branded on every part of his skin—carved onto his very soul. A lifeline to the afterworld. A hope, a dream. The only dream he'd ever had. Reaching out across time and space and death itself, trying to find her once more.

"_Kara._"

The sound left his lips, and the world went dark.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Once More, with a Happy Ending** K/L post-finale fic (chapter 3/??)

**Rating:** M

**Word Count:** ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­3,944

**Spoilers: **Through Daybreak 2 & 3

**Disclaimer: **It all belongs to RDM & Co.

_**Patching up divine warriors, trying to talk some sense into a bunch of old men, fending off evildoers—all just an average day in the life of Kara Thrace: Oracle Woman.**_

**CHAPTER 3**

_No, no, no, no, NO._

Kara frantically chanted the words over and over as her hands pressed against his side, trying to stop the flow of blood. Gods, but he'd lost so much already. He hadn't regained consciousness since he'd whispered her name and collapsed. His face was drawn and pale, and his breathing was getting fainter by the minute.

She had to stop the bleeding—and fast—or he was not going to live much longer.

"Maala," she began, doing her best to keep her voice steady, "I need you to tell me what happened."

The little girl smeared the tears away from her eyes, and spoke in a shaky voice. "He w-was at the stream, just sitting by the bank. He looked nice, so I went over to say hello. He was…helping me catch fish when—" another sniffle, "—when there was a noise. It was a l-leopard. It jumped towards us and he k-k-killed it." She took a big breath. "After—I was so scared—I ran to him, but he had trouble standing up—and then I—then I saw the blood—so I brought him to you." She looked at his pale face then back up to Kara, the tears streaming down again. "Can you fix him?" she whispered.

"I'll try, little one. Now, I need you to focus for me, ok? Bring me my knife," she nodded towards the blanket. Maala handed the carved bone blade to Kara.

"Good girl. Next, I want you to gather some of the sage leaves we saw on the way over, ok? Then I need you to find me two strong branches, about twice as long as you are. If you can't move them yourself, that's ok, just clean off all the small shoots until they're smooth." She looked at the frightened child, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. "Do you understand?"

The girl nodded, brushing away the tears again.

"Good. Now, off you go."

As she disappeared from view, Kara focused back on the man before her. All questions of _when, why_ and _how_ were quickly dismissed, as she concentrated on keeping him alive. Ironic how she was always at her best during a crisis—whether it was pursuing a deadly animal in the hunt, setting broken bones, or treating various wounds. There was simply no substitute for the clarity of mind that danger and urgency provided. She held on to that clarity as she quickly determined what to do.

Keeping one hand pressed against his side, she used the other to cut off the strange clothing covering his upper body. Fortunately, he odd material was flexible enough to make for a good bandage. By the time she'd finished pulling the fabric off his torso, Maala returned with the pale green leaves that served as a natural antiseptic. Wishing she had time to clean it properly, she quickly pressed these against the wound, then began wrapping the cloth around his chest, trying to bind the fabric as tightly as possible. By the time she was finished she was covered in his blood, the dark red staining up to her elbows.

Maala brought her a large branch, small arms and legs straining to drag it over to where they were. Kara helped her and brought another branch over to the blanket, rolling them up on either side to form a makeshift stretcher. She pulled the contraption over and began the task of moving him, gently lifting and sliding his legs over first, followed by his damaged upper body. Finally, she adjusted his face and neck to line up with the rest of him. She tried not to think about all the times and places she'd seen that face before, but it was impossible. Even stark white from loss of blood, eyelids closed and lips stretched tight, he still looked as beautiful as she remembered. She couldn't believe she was actually touching him after all this time; it was impossible to fathom that he was real. She carefully smoothed the hair away from his forehead, as if he'd notice the comforting gesture in his current condition.

_Snap out of it, Kara. You delay much longer and you can be certain he'll vanish back into the spirit world._ Shaking herself out of the reverie, she lifted the two ends of the homemade gurney near his head and began to make her way back to camp, dragging the stretcher behind her. Maala followed silently, carrying their remaining possessions.

The man from her visions may have materialized out of thin air, but how long he would stay in this world was now entirely up to her.

**************************************

"My kinsman, the gods have been good to us. They have blessed us with fertile lands, with plentiful rain and sun, they have given us animals to hunt and sustain us. Now we face a new threat. A dire threat. The tribes to the North have always favored violence, warring on those who were less powerful. Now that violence begins to encroach upon our territories, threatening our safety. But the gods are good, my kinsmen. The gods have always provided guidance in our hour of need. And that is exactly what has happened here. They have provided guidance—they have provided an answer. And that answer is war."

The response to Nasr's words from the crowd became deafening for a moment, as the seated elders cheered and shouted and murmured their approval. Kara thought they sounded more like a flock of ignorant old birds, idle and easily led.

Nasr bowed his head and crossed his arms over his chest, wearing that smug, self-satisfied look that made Kara's fingers itch to take it off by force. She stood opposite him across the fire, encircled by the elders, while the Chief surveyed them all, sitting on a raised platform just outside the circle.

Waiting for the noise to subside, she spoke slowly, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. "This council has a short memory. We have kept a truce with the Northern tribes for many years now. Before the gods ever brought me here. Yes, the increasing raids are disturbing, but this does not mean that we should consider war as our only response. We can strengthen the alliances, avoid bloodshed—"

"—How can it be avoided?" Nasr shot back. "How can our fate be uncertain when you have presented us with the answer? You have brought us that very meaning and purpose from the gods themselves!"

Kara had to struggle to be heard over the din of agreements and assents. "It's not clear what it means at all—there was no clarity in my visions, no direction from the gods—"

Nasr's louder voice drowned out both her and the crowd. "—Kara, you went into the hills to help clarify your visions, and you came back … _with a warrior_. I don't think the gods get much clearer than that." Again, approval murmured in the background. She could feel her hackles rising.

"But he was wounded—he _is_ wounded! Who knows if he'll even survive?" Her heart involuntarily constricted at the thought. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if somehow that would keep the nagging ache at bay. "Some warrior," she mumbled, "getting himself all torn up like that."

Kara didn't understand her own mind at the moment; it was equal parts hostility and concern. She couldn't help but remember the way he had looked when she brought him back to the camp, face so pale and breathing so shallow. Couldn't help but remember the way her hands shook when she'd used the small bone needle to stitch the wound closed. It had been several hours and he'd yet to wake up. Kara feared infection—usually severe and quite often fatal with abdominal wounds—had set in and soon he would suffer from fever. Then it would be a waiting game to see whether his soul would fight to stay in this world or move on to the next. She chewed her lip, feeling like a caged animal. She needed to be doing something, helping him—but she knew that for now, she'd done all she could. The rest was in the hands of the gods. Besides, there was no way she would miss this council, not with Nasr so determined to go to war. She had to stop this course of action; something in her bones told her it wasn't right.

The Chief's voice interrupted her strained thoughts, speaking for the first time since he had called this meeting. "Maala has told me what he did to protect her. That took great bravery, not to mention great skill. It is almost unheard of to take out such a large predator on one's own—certainly not something we have seen in this generation." His eyes flickered briefly over to his son. "This warrior is gifted, and I am inclined to believe he was sent here with a purpose."

More murmurings. At that pronouncement, Nasr's eyes became feral and his body tensed, almost as if he was trying to conceal a snarl. He wasn't used to having his standing as the tribe's best warrior questioned, even if only by implication. Deciding that a fight about wounded male pride would not help her objectives, Kara quickly resumed speaking, trying to focus the council back to the decision at hand.

"But my finding him doesn't _mean_ anything!" She was starting to become frantic. "I don't think his presence has anything to do with the war to the north. What if it's about something else altogether—something the gods haven't yet revealed?" She looked down at her hands, trying to get her breathing under control. Trying to ignore the blood that still stained her hands and tunic. She couldn't believe they were going to base this decision on finding a wounded man on the hillside. Her visions had failed her; they had nothing to do with the war. This was about something else—she was sure of it—although she didn't want to delve too deeply into what that might be. She closed her eyes and saw the images of her visions flash before her, every one of them having to do with him—his actions, his words, the way she'd felt, her inexplicable desires and emotions and responses when it came to him—all kinds of attachments and longings and feelings that an oracle was never supposed to have.

She felt Nasr's eyes on her before she heard his voice. It was measured and far too gentle. "What else could it possibly mean?" Something flickered over his face, and there was a new kind of hardness there. "Have you seen this man before? In your visions?"

"No," she quickly lied. "It's just that—it doesn't make any kind of sense to think that he is connected to our decision. This was coincidence, nothing more."

His eyes lingered on her a moment longer before he turned back to his father. "Regardless of this warrior's ability or any … _coincidence_, the fact remains that he was found by our Oracle after fighting off an enemy threat, protecting the Chief's own granddaughter—my beloved niece—in the process."

"The will of the gods is always subject to interpretation," he continued, throwing Kara an appropriately deferential glance, "but in this instance it seems clear that his presence is a sign and a blessing for our course. And it is upon this sign that you should base your decision, Father." He bowed his head in a show of self-righteous humility, perfectly practiced and executed. This time it was Kara's turn to hold back a snarl.

The Chief turned to Kara. "And you, my daughter? What say you?"

Kara tried to steady her voice and sound as calm as possible. "My Chief, I went to the wilderness to seek out clarification of my visions, to find guidance about our warring neighbors to the north. I found none. While I respect the bravery of the man who saved Maala—and certainly, while we owe him a measure of gratitude for such a sacrifice—we cannot draw from it any more meaning than that. We must continue to seek out the gods' will in this matter."

"_Continue_ to seek out the gods' will? How much plainer can it get?" Nasr took a deep breath and looked at Kara gently. "Our Oracle is tired and overwrought, Father. This has been an upsetting day for her. Perhaps she cannot see what is so clear to us."

Kara was two seconds away from leaping across the circle to tear out his throat when the Chief's raised hand silenced both of them. "Enough! I have made my decision. This warrior's presence is indeed a sign of the gods. His strange appearance, his skills against the leopard—the signs all point to a divine origin. In fact, his appearance here reminds me of the when the gods saw fit to send us our Oracle," he said nodding towards Kara. "That was indeed a divine gift, and such a gift should be gratefully accepted. So it must be with this man. Perhaps his presence serves as a complement the Oracle. A symbol of conflict to balance the symbol of peace. This is no coincidence," he said finally. "It is a sign. A sign that we must go to war."

"However—" he said, cutting off what was sure to be his son's congratulations and Kara's objections, "_However_, it is not wise to proceed into battle when the symbol of the gods' will is wounded. He must heal first. I have a feeling he is meant to join us in this fight."

Anticipating Kara's objections, he looked at her and continued. "I know you do not believe in this path, my daughter, but this is my decision. But if you still feel this need to seek out the visions to find a different path—if you feel the signs have been misinterpreted—then you have until he recovers to do so. If not, then we will stay this course."

Kara, bowed her head, knowing that the battle was lost. "As you wish, my Chief." She sent Nasr a withering glance, and made her way outside the circle. _Let those fools have their celebrations_. Old men and young bucks, so eager to go and fight, so eager to die—when none of it made any sense at all. The tribes to the north were far better prepared and battle-tested—war was what they did for a living, after all. Why, after several years of peace her kinsmen should suddenly decide that engaging them in a head-on confrontation was a good idea was beyond her. Taking several deep breaths, she tried in vain to calm herself. This was all wrong. If there was one thing she knew, it was that that man had nothing to do with going to war—and everything to do with her.

*************************************

Hours later, with Maala curled up against her side, she sat there quietly reliving the events of the day, her eyes fixed on the unmoving figure lying before her.

_Lee_. His name was Lee.

Hadn't she always known that? Even before Maala told her, it was like that name, that simple syllable had always been tucked away inside her brain, just waiting to be activated. She stared down at his face again, still pale but not so bad as before. She studied it: the smooth expanse of his forehead, the sharp angle of his nose, the beautiful planes of his cheekbones melting into a strong jaw. He was even more breathtaking than in her visions, if such a thing was possible. This is insane, she thought. It was as if he'd saturated all of her waking thoughts. She didn't like the intensity of her feelings—they were too vivid, too acute.

Needing a break from her thoughts, from her worries—from _him_—she walked outside, trying to clear her head in the cool night air. She'd been sitting there for hours now, just waiting for something to happen, waiting for him to wake up. He was running a fever, but it wasn't as high as she'd have thought, so at least that was a good sign. Perhaps he might make it after all. She tried to push down the thought, not wanting to get her hopes up that he would live, trying not to get too attached. It felt like a futile exercise.

She lifted her long hair and draped it over her shoulder, trying to enjoy what little breeze she could. Feeling a prickle on the back of her neck, she tensed, suddenly knowing she was not alone. And from the uneasy aura settling around her, she knew exactly who the other person was. She heard his voice before her eyes could find him in the darkness.

"Ahhh, the devout Oracle, still practicing her healing arts. Really, it's a testament to your loyalty to this tribe." Nasr lounged against a nearby hut, arms folded, studying her with a casual interest, as if she were some wild animal he was thinking about taming.

"I still remember the day Maala found you in the woods, as if the gods had dropped you there themselves." He sighed. "Such a beautiful woman. And so special. No memories, no knowledge of any previous life, as if you were sent to us to fulfill some single-minded purpose." He pushed away from the wall, wandering towards her, careless yet calculating. Circling her, like a bird of prey.

"Such knowledge of healing, and from the very first day—knowing just how to set Usur's leg so it would heal properly, nursing the smaller children through the coughing sickness, treating hunting wounds and injuries as if you were born to do so. '_What a gift_,' I thought—and I said to my father too—_what a blessing that the gods should see fit to give us such a woman_.' And then the visions started, and the dreams, and it was clear that you were to become our Oracle. Such wise counsel you gave. I thought, '_Surely, such an Oracle would always be true, be faithful to her people. Certainly she would never let anything cloud her judgment_.'"

Kara was growing weary of this game. She was too tired to spar with him right now. "What's your point, Nasr? Why are you here at this hour?"

His face softened in the moonlight, but it was still the face of a predator. She held his gaze, unwilling to flinch. "I was concerned for you when you left our meeting so angry. I even went to your cave to make sure you were all right. You weren't there of course, but I still looked everywhere." He ran his fingers through his black hair, his hand moving to absently clap his jaw. He began to pace again, circling her in much closer proximity this time.

"You're a beautiful artist, Kara," he continued, almost as if he were thinking out loud. "You have such a way with color and shape. It's one of the things I've always enjoyed about you. I couldn't help but appreciate those wonderful paintings of yours—of your visions. Truly a magnificent oracle, touched by the gods." He was behind her now, his voice hovering just above her ear. "So imagine my surprise when I saw painted on the walls of your home the face of the man you brought back from the hillside." Another pause. "Must be ... _coincidence_, and nothing more, I'm sure." His voice had turned to ice, and Kara had to fight not to give in the urge to flee. But she would not show fear.

"How is it, I wonder, that you should have no memory of this man whose face you've painted? Why would our faithful, _loyal_ Oracle forget such a thing?"

She briefly shut her eyes._ Oh perfect. _She'd forgotten entirely about the painting. Kara struggled to get control of her breathing and her voice before turning to respond. As with any predator, it was best to go on the attack first. Showing fear was the quickest way to get you killed. Instead she called upon anger.

"Honestly, Nasr, your concern is touching," she began, her lip slightly curling on the word 'touching,' "but entirely unnecessary. I have so many visions, paint so many things. I can't be expected to remember every single one. It's an _oracle's_ job to know how to discern what's important from what's not. Even if I did see that man in a vision—if it was even the same person—it was inconsequential."

Gaining momentum, she continued, pressing the buttons she knew would hurt the most. "Besides, you got your war. Good thing your Father saw fit to give you permission to go play soldier. Better run along now and do his bidding." Her lips settled into a satisfied smirk and she glared back at him in challenge.

At that he pivoted, his body too close to hers, the air seeming to vanish in favor of solid darkness. "Careful, Kara." He said in that sickening voice, the soothing one. "You may be losing your touch with these visions. Forgetfulness could be the first sign that they are starting to fade altogether. Such a shame for you to lose that divine gift." His eyes raked over her body in an appraising, possessive way. "I might just have to persuade my Father that it's time to marry you off."

_Bastard._ Her nostrils flared, fists clenching as she tried to quell the tremors running through her body. "Keep on dreaming, Nasr. I'd just as soon vanish to be with the gods."

Another smile. _Of course the sick monster was enjoying this_. "And perhaps someday you shall. But until then, we wouldn't want your pride and carelessness to subject our tribe to harm. So many fragile lives in your hands, Kara. So many frail elders, so many invalids," his eyes flickered toward the nearby hut before continuing, "And so many _children_. You always did have a soft spot for children." He paused, lingering for a moment to give his words the greatest effect. "My niece, for example. I know how fond you are of her."

For the second time today—and for an entirely different reason—her heart almost stopped beating. "You wouldn't dare," she ground out between her teeth.

"Ahhh, but Kara, we're not talking about me, remember? We're talking about the will of the gods." He leaned even closer, just a hair's breath away from her lips. "Best be good, my dear. I'll be watching." With one final smile, he turned and sauntered off into the darkness.

She stood there for several minutes. Whether she was shaking with rage or fear, she couldn't tell. She only knew that if he ever sought to make good on any of his threats, she would bathe her hands in his blood. She looked heavenward, silently cursing her visions. How could she make sense of any of this? The only thing she could do was pray for more guidance, for an answer to lead her people away from war, to protect them. To protect Maala. And _him_.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by shouting in the distance.

"Kara! Kara!" Maala was sprinting at full speed towards her, legs nearly moving too fast for her body to keep up.

"Kara, come quickly! He's awake."

------------------------------------


	4. Chapter 4

_**Behold! My muse finally came back!! (And we are most excited. *g*)**_

_**Lee's awake! He are Kara are finally on the same plane of existence! But, as we know, things never go quite smoothly for our beloved pilots. And on top of everything else, we've got some serious trouble brewin'…**_

**[Disclaimer—None of it belongs to me; it's all RDM & Co. I'm just taking the characters out for a spin.]**

*************************

**Chapter 4**

_Frak me._

All those lovely stories about shining lights and harps playing and angels singing and all Lee could think about was that the afterlife shouldn't hurt so frakking much.

His body burned all over, and pain was still radiating out of his side. He tried to move, experimentally wiggling fingers and toes. When he tried to lift an arm, a white-hot pain splayed across his torso, settling underneath his ribs. After a moment, Lee opened his eyes and let them adjust to his surroundings. Focusing, he saw a thatched roof connected to mud walls, all lit by the fire he appeared to be lying next to. He took a shallow breath, cringing a bit from the way his chest expanded painfully against his wound, and he inhaled a bouquet of very real, very visceral smells—the smoke of the fire, the strong herbs lying nearby, the pelt of the animal he appeared to be lying on.

Lee took a moment to reconsider his existential status. Real smells, real sights, real pain. Perhaps by some miracle he'd survived that leopard attack after all. But if that was true, it would mean that—

His hazy thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices and footsteps, followed by the entrance of the little girl he had met earlier. She was babbling in that strange language again, enthusiastically speaking to someone just behind her. Lee twisted his head to the side in an effort to see who had come inside the small hut. In his current position, he couldn't quite see the doorway, and so was forced to lie helpless until someone waded into his field of vision. First came the little girl—_Maala?_—who bounded up to his side, peering at him with wide, excited eyes.

"Ousa Lee! Ousa Lee!" She kept exclaiming, turning around to face someone behind her, someone just out of his sight. Her final words got his undivided attention. "Kara! Kara! Ousa Lee!"

He heard her voice before he saw her, answering Maala in her language. The words were strange, but the voice unmistakable. And then, there she was. Just as he'd seen her earlier, with the longer hair and still wearing the pale animal skins. She looked tired, like she used to when she'd flown one too many consecutive CAPs. She stopped suddenly when she saw his eyes were open and began advancing slowly, cautiously towards him.

Maala stepped back as Kara knelt beside him, and Lee watched as her eyes tracked his body, taking special care to examine the wound along his rib cage. She leaned in close and carefully changed the dressing. Lee was frozen, completely transfixed as he watched her press a new bandage against his side. If there was any pain, it didn't register—he was too overwhelmed by being near her after all this time. It was all he could do to remember to breathe.

She must have felt uncomfortable at his perusal because a very uncharacteristic blush crept up to her cheeks, giving her a slightly embarrassed look, and her hands were tentative, as if she wasn't used to touching a man. And all the while she spoke quietly to Maala in that damnable foreign language. Finishing her task, she leaned over his face and spoke to him, asking him some sort of question, the raised eyebrows and tilt of her head giving him the indication that she expected an answer, even though he didn't understand the words. She leaned in close and repeated it, her face hovering above his.

In that moment Lee made a decision. Afterlife, reality, dream—whatever this was, he had to know, had to make sure that this wasn't some kind of godsdamned hallucination, that this wasn't the last bit of sanity his mind had chosen to cling to. He had to know that she was real. So he did the only thing he could think of—the only thing he _had_ thought of for eight months straight. Taking a deep breath, he used every last bit of strength, ignoring pain and fatigue and everything else—and reached up and kissed her. Thoroughly. As if his life depended on it.

Using his one good arm, he threaded his fingers through her hair and brought her lips down to his, sealing them together with a strength he didn't know he possessed. Their lips crashed against each other. It wasn't perfect; hell, his aim wasn't even that great, but all it took was a slight tilt of his head and the lifting of her chin and—there it was. Their mouths fused and held; sheer force of will overpowering any signal his brain might be sending him about pain or exhaustion. Screw thought. He did not care one frakking bit so long as he could stay like this.

She gasped against him in surprise, a sharp intake of breath as she moved to pull away, but Lee held fast, leaning forward just enough so he could slip his tongue between her lips and run it across the edge of her own. _Gods._ He nearly groaned out loud at the way she tasted, his effort to suppress the reaction sending a full body shiver down his spine. She tasted even better than he remembered—like life itself. For a moment, one eternal agonizing moment, she went perfectly still against him, frozen in place. _Please_, he prayed to unseen, unacknowledged gods. _Please, please don't run. Just this once._ And as if those imaginary deities heard his plea, he felt her tongue timidly slide across his. He would have cried out with joy had his mouth not been otherwise occupied. Instead, he responded in kind, stroking his tongue deeply inside her mouth until she sighed and repeated the motion with her own, matching him movement for movement. It was only when his hand strayed lower, down the smooth column of her throat, and lower still, across a bare shoulder, that he heard another gasp—this time an alarmed intake of breath—and she pulled away shaking and panting, a hand raised to her lips.

"Kara," he breathed again as the last of his strength promptly left him, forcing him to sink down against the rough bedding, but this time with a stupid grin plastered across his face. He could resign himself to blackness for the moment, because this was no dream.

_She was real_.

Lee silently thanked whatever higher power seemed to be watching out for him before blissfully passing out once more.

************************

Hours later, after the sun had climbed high into the sky, Kara remained sitting in the hut next to her patient, fingers absently tracing around the edge of her lips, still reliving the feeling of having his mouth pressed so intimately against hers. Gods, the way he tasted—the way his lips fit against hers—she never wanted it to stop. It was just like she remembered from her dreams, only better.

A thousand times better, and a thousand times more frightening.

Oracles did not go around kissing strange men. Even if they did magically appear for some unknown mystical purpose. Even if their mouths tasted like honey and their tongues made her insides flip as if she were a bird with wings. Even if she'd wanted nothing more than to crawl on top of him and explore him with her hands and mouth until they both had to come up for air—and maybe not stop even then…

_Get a grip, Kara_, she chided herself. _Quit acting like a damn lovesick maiden over some lusty young warrior_.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone waking up. Their guest—_Lee_—was struggling to sit up on the pallet.

His eyes fluttered open as he took in his surroundings—and the situation. "What the hell?.." he began in a groggy voice.

Kara smiled sweetly. Guardedly. "Good afternoon."

He wriggled experimentally, then glanced down at his arms. "Did you… am I…" he sputtered, then paused. "_Why in gods' names did you tie me to the bed?_" he bellowed. Clearly the leopard had not permanently damaged his lungs.

Kara shrugged good-naturedly. "You needed your rest. Couldn't have you wear yourself out with such a…" she blushed a bit, "enthusiastic hello." The smirk returned, a trace of wariness behind it.

There was definitely no trace of amusement left in his voice this time. "So help me, if you don't untie me right this minute—"

"Oh I don't think so," Kara continued smoothly. "As the chief healer of this tribe, I'm in charge of your convalescence. Besides, you're quite the mystical catch, you see," she continued with more than a hint of sarcasm. "It's not every day that we get divine warriors just falling from the sky." She gave him a skeptical perusal and crossed her arms over her chest. When in doubt, show anger, swagger, but not fear. Never fear.

His brow wrinkled in utter confusion. It was actually kind of cute, Kara thought distractedly. "Divine war—mystical wha—f-falling from the sky?" he stammered rather adorably. "You can't be serious." He smiled for a moment before realizing that she wasn't sharing in the joke. His face broke just the tiniest bit. "Kara… don't you remember me?" he asked softly, carefully.

At his use of her name, Kara's face blanched. There was no mistake then—it hadn't been a figment of her imagination last night, or yesterday when he appeared on the hillside. He knew her name. The knowledge hit her like a physical blow. She briefly shut her eyes. There was no way she was going to dwell on this right now.

"I don't know you," she lied. "I've never seen you before, and I have absolutely no idea why you think you know me." She shrugged and looked away, almost as if she was talking to herself. "Maybe it has to do with the gods, maybe my visions were trying to tell me something—"

"Gods?" he questioned, bewildered. "Visions?" This time it was his turn to close his eyes. "No. No, this can't be—not like…." He stopped, almost choked on the words. "No, Kara—please. It's me." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It's _Lee_." She held his gaze as long as she could before turning away. "You really don't remember, do you?" His voice was hollow and defeated, and Kara couldn't bear to look at the pain on his face.

She just shook her head, biting her lip to keep from spilling out all the things she did remember. Remembered, but did not understand.

He paused for a few minutes, staring at the thatched roof, just breathing, trying to get his thoughts under control. It was almost as if she could see the wheels turning in his mind, like he was trying to work out the answer to puzzle. "Kara," he began again, turning his head towards her, "Kara, you need to listen to me. Somehow, you've lost your memory. But it's ok, I'm here. I'll help you remember." His voice was soothing. Eerie. "You're a pilot. So was I. We served together on the Battlestar Galac—"

"No!" Kara shouted, scrambling to her feet. She was in no mood to hear what this stranger had to say. She didn't want to know. She bit her lip again, taking deep calming breaths as she focused on the present, on what was in front of her. _I am an oracle, I belong to my tribe. These are my people, my home…_

She couldn't face anything else. She didn't want to think about the visions, what she'd seen—any of it. She didn't want to think about what it all meant; she was scared of losing herself to something unknown, something she didn't understand.

_Falling off a cliff as if tied to a heavy stone. Submerged, drowning in images and emotions—blue eyes, the curve of his smile. Longing, pain, despair, loss. So much loss…_

She shook off the feeling and snapped herself back into the moment. "I'm serious," she said slowly, a warning in her voice. "You need rest, and this conversation is over."

At that moment, Maala stepped into the hut, carrying a small bundle of firewood. She dropped her burden abruptly and they both turned to look at her.

"What is it?" Kara asked, checking to make sure she was alright.

Maala was looking at her like she'd seen a ghost. It took her a full minute to find her voice. "Kara… you're… speaking his language?" Her eyes were frightened and filled with wonder. "You can understand him?"

"I'm speaking a different lang—" she abruptly clamped a hand over her mouth. "But how is that even possib—" she blurted between tense fingers. Another pause. "But I remember—" Best stop before she said something she couldn't take back. She looked over at the stranger, who simply quirked an eyebrow at her in a most irritating way as if to say '_See, I told you so_.' Her fingers involuntarily twitched to wipe that look off, as if a long-buried sense memory had come bubbling to the surface.

She took a deep calming breath, hands still pressed against her lips. _Best not to hit the mystical warrior_. Another deep breath. _At least not until he's fully recovered_.

"So… _Kara_," the stranger continued in his bizarrely familiar language. "Aren't you curious as to why you can speak my language? Don't you want to know why that is?"

"Absolutely not." Kara cut back in. "Magically appearing is one thing, but claiming to have all the answers about my past is quite another. You must have lost more blood than I thought." She couldn't help but wince at the ease with which she spoke the strange words. She pointed a slightly shaky finger at him. "You need rest, I need some fresh air, and this conversation is over. Maala," she continued, switching back to the language of her people, "keep an eye on him until I get back, ok?" and with that she gave their guest one last glare and stalked out of the tent, flipping her long hair over her shoulder as she made her way outside.

***************

As heavy as his heart was, Lee couldn't help but smile just a bit. Even in a backwoods hut, surrounded by primitive tribesmen, wearing nothing but animal skins and regarded as some kind of witch doctor, she was still Kara. Still had that lightning-quick temper, and he was almost certain, the sharp right hook to go along with it. And, no matter what the surroundings, she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. For all this day's weirdness, things could most definitely be worse. She was here, and she was alive.

_She. Was. Alive._

His brain tripped over the thought again and again. He had no idea how she'd gotten there, no idea why she couldn't remember, but at that moment, he didn't care. She was alive. And so was he. Right now that was all he needed to know. He could work out the rest. He had to.

He glanced back over at Maala who had sat down beside him and was glancing at him curiously. "I guess we better start learning each other's language, or I suspect I'm going to be talking to myself for quite awhile, huh?"

He shifted uncomfortably in the leather cords wrapped around his arms and legs. "She always did have a way with restraints," he muttered. He looked at Maala helplessly. "You don't think you could teach me the words for '_please untie me_,' do you?"

***************

Nasr stood in the darkness, watching the small gathering around the bonfire in brooding silence. His father, Kara, his niece … and _him_.

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since the Warrior had appeared, two weeks since Nasr had gotten his wish to go to war. The appearance of the stranger had disrupted the tribe, most notably diverting the attention of the elders, his father, and of course, the Oracle.

His father had been spending many days by the ritual fire, offering sacrifices and prayers to the gods, asking for guidance and wisdom in the coming conflict. He'd absent-mindedly tasked his son with intelligence gathering and reconnaissance, focusing instead on the mystical aspects of going to war rather than the practical ones. That suited Nasr just fine. In fact, the less his father was involved with the planning stages, the better. For this to work, he needed to stay in control of the military strategy.

His plan was humming right along in fact, but it didn't lessen his annoyance or his anger at the scene before him.

Kara had been faithfully tending to their mystical guest, ignoring Nasr at every possible moment and avoiding him since that night when he'd confronted her about her painting on the wall of her cave. She'd also been studiously avoiding the Warrior as much as possible, trying her best not to speak with him, avoiding eye contact—anything to keep from getting too close. She knew more than she was letting on; that much was certain. She remembered this man from somewhere—visions, dreams, whatever—but for some reason, she wouldn't disclose it. That indicated that the memories were either bad omens … or were of a decidedly personal nature. Nasr wasn't sure which angered him more.

He didn't believe in the gods. Didn't believe in their sovereignty or in their wisdom. He only cared about the spiritual—about anything—when it could be of use to him. He still didn't know why the strange warrior had appeared in their midst a fortnight ago, and frankly, he normally wouldn't have cared so long as it suited his purposes. And it did.

But watching him now—watching him watch _her_—the familiar rage began to uncoil in the pit of his belly, his hands itching to take out his spear and skewer the closest living creature he could find, whether human or animal.

At that moment Maala's high-pitched laughter echoed through the air, as she reenacted her favorite story about the time Kara had killed the wild boar all by herself. The stranger was only starting to learn their language, but he seemed to understand the story well enough, his eyes flickering over to Kara, looking at her like she was a drink of water and he was a man dying of thirst.

As Maala finished her story, Kara just rolled her eyes and grinned at the little girl, and for a moment, her eyes caught the Warrior's and she gave him a shy, unguarded smile, as if he had suddenly become an oasis in the desert. The moment was brief, and she quickly looked away, but it was too late. _He_ had seen it, and so had Nasr. Yes, he thought, the Oracle was definitely recalling some kind of memory about their guest, and those memories weren't of the bad variety, if the faint blush on her cheeks was any indication.

He felt the rage swell within in him, battling with the lust at seeing such a look on her face. _That whore. _How dare she? After all this time, how could she mistake his intentions? How could she even dare look at another man when she must know she was only ever meant for him?

His hand tightened on his ever-present spear, and it took several minutes to get himself under control, to tamp down the urge to charge forward and run them both through with his blade. He stalked off into the night, lust and rage equally warring within. What he needed was a distraction.

He couldn't touch the Oracle, but anyone else in the tribe was fair game. It was expected—even assumed, that the first-born son of the Chief would simply take what he wanted when he wanted it. And he did. Often.

His gaze caught the eye of a young woman, no older than sixteen or seventeen. She'd been trying to get his attention for weeks, no doubt hoping to gain some favors that being the mistress to the next Chief would bring along with it. He gave her an appraising glance, taking in the long legs and firm breasts. That could wait; right now he had a particular use in mind for those full lips.

Signaling her with a tilt of his head, he walked away from the camp and into the brush. Turning suddenly, he grabbed the girl's shoulders and pressed her against him while his hand came up to tangle in her long black hair. Coiling the long strands like a rope around his palm, he yanked hard until she let out a startled cry and dropped to her knees before him. Tugging the cord of hair tighter until she began to whimper, he guided her head until she could have no doubt as to what he expected her to do.

Nasr felt her lips wrap around him, leaned back into the darkness and sighed. The light was just dim enough that he could still make out the dark headed girl kneeling in front of him. With a snarl that came from anger as much as pleasure, he tightened his grip on the back of her head as he imagined the dark hair before him was a pale blonde instead—that it was Kara on her knees before him, Kara's mouth around him. He dreamed about her far too many nights to count—dreamed of possessing her, owning her, making her act out every twisted fantasy that had taken up residence in his brain during the two years since she appeared in their midst. He cursed his father for making her an oracle and cursed her for her coldness towards him. But no matter. He would win this game. He always did.

Just the thought of victory—of claiming what he wanted, taking what was rightfully his—pushed his body over the edge, the climax rippling through him as the girl before him let out a small shriek of pain. He'd been gripping her head hard enough to bruise but not draw blood. He'd been doing this long enough to know the difference. His body spent and relaxed, he flung the young woman aside. Relieved at being set free with no more than a few bruises, she quickly scampered away. Nasr took no notice, just leaned back against the tree and fixed his gaze on the fire in the distance.

A great hunter needed three essential qualities: the ability to lay a good trap, the patience to see it through, and the foresight to adapt to a change in circumstance. Nasr had all of these qualities. His trap was laid, the spring was set. Everything was coming together just as he had wanted. Granted, the Warrior was an unforeseen complication, but even the unexpected could prove useful. The difference between savior and villain was simply a matter of perception. He could certainly use that to his advantage.

And he had all the patience in the world.

_**Next time in Crazyspacemagic Land.....**_

_**Will Kara and Lee ever finish that conversation? Will there be more kissin'? What sorts of awful plans is that evil Nasr up to? And when are we gonna break out the war paint?**___

_**Until next time, my dears, take care and keep on healing. **___

_**Love,**__  
__**Bee**_


	5. Chapter 5

Once More, with a Happy Ending A _very AU_ K/L post-finale fic (chapter 5)

Rating: M

Word Count: ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­4,262

Spoilers: Through Daybreak 2 & 3

Disclaimer: It all belongs to RDM & Co.

_**Welcome to Chapter 5! Here there be fightin' and kissin' and cute little kids. Enjoy! **_

_**REMEMBER-- comments equal love. Poor little fic writers need encouragement like everyone else : )**_

**--------------------------------------**

**Chapter 5**

Lee was a man known for his exceptional patience. Back in his CAG days, he was renowned for his unflappable temperament and ability to juggle boundless egos and end-of the-worlds despair in a seemingly effortless fashion (except for the occasional run-in with his hotshot problem pilot). As Commander of the _Pegasus_, he could handle a hostile crew and even manage to keep Kendra Shaw under (relative) control. As the Caprican Delegate, he could listen to one of Jacob's endless tirades for a good half hour before even feeling the need to shift in his chair. As President, he could endure the never-ending requests from the fleet's representatives—even tolerate those crazy-ass groupies of Baltar's—all without breaking so much as a sweat. And in this new life, he could sit patiently for the better part of a day, crouching in unimaginable stillness, waiting for the perfect prey to come to him.

Yes, Lee Adama was a patient man. Or so he had thought.

But lately that fabled patience was wearing exceedingly thin. It had been two months now. _Two months_. Two frakking months, and he couldn't seem to get more than five minutes alone with Kara. Oh sure, he'd seen her—every other day for regular checkups on the progress of his healing, in meetings with the Chief for which she'd translate, even the occasional tribal gathering he'd been allowed to attend since he regained the ability to move about. But nothing resembling a conversation. Not since the first day he'd woken up had he been able to talk to her about her past, about the apparent amnesia, to try and help her fill in some of the blanks.

And she made damn sure to keep her distance. Spoke as little as possible and gave away nothing. Godsdamn triad face—made her impossible to read. All Lee knew was that attempting to start a conversation had been absolutely no use when she was trying to avoid him like the plague.

And he was sick and tired of being ignored.

The old anger that had built up inside him over the better part of a year began to rise to the surface and take up residence. He'd lost her twice now, had found her again—for this? To be subjected to some sort of perverse punishment, being able to see her, to be around her, but not be close to her? To have her not remember him? Believe she was some sort of religious pawn? Some kind of oracle, a servant of the gods, drowning in superstition and ritual? _This_ was why he'd survived the leopard attack? To have his face pressed up against the glass—able to see the thing he wanted most, but never to have it? It seemed that fate was determined to make him a fool over and over again. Lee wished that whoever the hell was supposedly looking out for him would just stop bothering if this was the result.

This had to end, and soon. He wasn't some cooped up invalid anymore—she couldn't avoid him forever. No, he thought, it was time they finished their conversation, time he got some answers and she listened to what he had to say.

The time for patience was over.

With that thought, Lee stood up—the act still requiring just a bit more effort than it usually did—and made his way over to the entrance of his hut. Swinging open the animal skin covering the doorframe, he nearly stumbled over a basket of food lying at the entrance. Bending down to pick it up, he was immediately accosted by wide brown eyes and full lips curving into a smile as a buxom young woman appeared from nowhere, helping him lift the basket and set it inside.

"Thanks," Lee murmured in the tribe's native language. Spending day after day for two months with Maala was more than enough immersion to pick up the basics of their vocabulary. He smiled shyly at the attractive girl.

Her face instantly lit up. She spoke quickly, but Lee managed to catch most of the words. "Are you feeling ok? Is there anything I can get you? Does your wound hurt?"

She slowly advanced on him, the predatory look on her face reminding him of his high school pyramid days, when the spirit girls were always leaving random baked goods in his locker before a big game. It seemed he'd acquired his own little group of spirit girls during his convalescence. Unlike Kara, they didn't mind making conversation. From numerous encounters over the past few weeks, Lee also conceded that they probably wouldn't mind doing several other things as well. Must have something to do with being a so-called mystical warrior who suddenly appeared in their midst. Like Kara, he'd become a rather exotic addition to the tribe.

The lovely young woman's brow furrowed slightly, and she traced her fingers down the angry red scar on the right side of his bare torso. "It looks so painful," she whispered breathlessly. "Are you sure there's nothing I can … _do_ for you?" She stepped closer, placing her other hand on his chest.

What words he may have missed in translation he definitely understood from her body language. "No, no, no I'm fine," Lee said a little too quickly, backing away from her and snagging a single black tank as he edged towards the door. "Just need to, uh, get some air. Have to be g-going," he stammered and made his way outside, leaving a rather depressed-looking young maiden in his wake.

Lee felt guilty only for a moment as he hurried out into the village, anxious to be on his way. Right now there was only one woman he wanted to see. Slipping the shirt over his head, he looked up at the sky to gauge the time and grimaced. _Dammit._ He was late to meet Maala at their usual fishing spot. Today, fishing would have to wait, he thought as he hurried toward the river. Come hell or high water, he had a conversation to finish.

********************

In her five years, Maala had discovered one thing for certain: that adults were very silly people. They never seemed to talk about the things they wanted to talk about, or do the things they wanted to do.

She thought this rather pointless—like taking the long way to the stream when she could just use the shortcut through the woods. If she was hungry, she ate, if she was tired, she slept. And if she had something to say, well then, she just said it. She poked her little spear in the dirt, waiting for Lee to meet her at their usual fishing hole. It wasn't like him to be late, but he'd show up; he always did.

She sighed. Adults just took a little more patience. But sometimes, she thought with a smile, they were worth the trouble.

Especially Lee.

They spent most of every day together, with Maala looking out for him like he was a baby chick. And he needed it. He was so new to their ways; he never would have understood a thing if she hadn't been there to teach him. But she didn't mind, Lee was a fast learner, and he listened better than most grownups, which she liked. They were doing a pretty good job of being able to talk to each other these days, both of them trying hard to learn the other's language. Maala had gotten most of the basic words down and was able to have short conversations in his language, but sometimes if the word got too big or Lee talked about something from before he got to the tribe—well, she just didn't understand it. But she tried, and he was very patient with her too. Not many grownups spent a lot of time with her, and they certainly didn't pay her much attention, but Lee was different. He was kind and nice. He listened. And like Kara, he had become her friend.

Maala twirled the spear around in the dry earth, drawing aimless circles. She frowned. She couldn't understand why Kara wouldn't spend much time with her lately, and Maala began to wonder if she'd done something wrong. Kara looked tired all the time and she seemed cross. She was always going off to find more visions, telling Maala to stay behind.

She seemed so unhappy, it got Maala to thinking. She needed someone to make her happy—someone to make her smile. And luckily for Kara, Maala knew of just the right person.

And that's how her plan began.

In fact, a few days ago she'd even tried to talk to Lee about it. It hadn't gone very well.

_"Lee," she began in her own language. "Are you and Kara married?"_

_Lee abruptly choked on the ginger root tea he was drinking, eyes wide. "Wh-wha—why do you think that?" he asked slowly, still coughing a bit._

_"Well, you kissed her that first day," Maala explained. "And when you do talk, you mostly fight. But then you look at each other like you want to talk some more, but you don't. And you both stare at each other. _A LOT_," she finished, speaking the last words slowly and carefully. _

_Lee looked a bit pale at this. Maala reached out and patted his arm. "It's ok. That's how my friend Nela's parents act. They fight sometimes, but they never stay mad for long. And they like to kiss too."_

_"Nela's parents?" Lee asked. "What about your own?"_

_"Oh, mine died a long time ago," Maala said. "I don't really remember them."_

_"I'm sorry," Lee said softly._

_Maala smiled up at his kind face. "It's ok. So," she persisted, "are you married to Kara?"_

_"No! Gods no!" he stammered in his own language. "I mean, it's just that I knew her before—and, well—well it's … complicated," he finished lamely._

_"Comp-li-cat-ed?" she replied._

_Lee nodded, switching back into the tribal tongue. "Difficult. Hard to explain."_

_"But you _want_ to marry her?"_

_Again, she caught him right as he'd taken another gulp of tea, which came shooting back out. This time, through his nose. She patted him on the back._

_"I—uh—what gave you that idea?"_

_Maala just rolled her eyes and looked at him. She couldn't believe she had to explain this. "Well," she began slowly, "you like her, you like kissing her, you stare at her a lot, and you never stay mad for long." She crossed her little arms over her chest. "How could you not want to marry her?"_

_Lee's jaw dropped open and he struggled to say something for a good two minutes. Finally, he just gave up, muttering something about 'little people' and 'too damn perceptive' before changing the subject altogether._

_"Don't you think it's time we went fishing?" he stood up, signaling that their conversation was over._

_Fishing…_ Maala's thoughts broke away to the present. Where was he? And where was Kara for that matter? She had invited them both there today, although they didn't know that. Sometimes it was best only to tell them what they needed to know.

At that moment, Kara hurried into view. She still looked tired, and the circles under her eyes were darker than ever. She saw Maala and approached her, kneeling in front of her.

"Maala, I'm sorry but I can't go fishing today—" she began, slightly out of breath.

"What? Why?" Maala cut in. She tried to keep her lip from trembling. "Are you mad at me?"

Kara's eyes widened in surprise. "Mad? No, of course not. I'd never be mad at you." She glanced away. "It's just that I need to go and seek more visions. There's an important meeting tonight with the Chief. I … need answers before then." She gently brushed the hair back from the little girl's face. "We'll go fishing very soon, ok? I just can't right now."

Maala frowned but nodded.

"I'm sorry, little one, but I'll be back to see you soon. I promise." With that, Kara stood and placed a quick kiss on Maala's forehead before disappearing back into the wilderness.

Maala sat back down and kicked at the dirt. She couldn't get Lee and Kara to be married if she couldn't get them around each other. Sulking, she almost didn't hear Lee approach.

"Maala?" he began, "Maala, I'm sorry late. I ran into the Chief … something about a meeting tonight …" He ran a hand through his hair and looked at her with a frown. "I'm sorry, Maala, but I can't go fishing today—"

"What?" Maala stood up. Now she was starting to get mad. "But—"

"I don't have time to explain, but I need to find Kara. I need to talk to her." His face looked very serious. "It can't wait."

If he needed to find Kara, then maybe her plan wasn't lost after all. "I just saw her. She was going back into the hills to go find more visions. Probably back to the place where I brought you that first day when you got hurt—by the big tree. Do you remember?"

Lee knelt down and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Yes, I remember. And thank you. I promise—we'll go fishing soon."

Maala nodded and watched him hurry down the path. _Grownups._ Well, she mused, at least she could push them in the right direction. That would have to do for now.

**************************

_God of the sun, goddess of the moon, goddess of the stars above … give me guidance, for I am but a blind mortal._

Kara repeated the familiar litany as she slumped against the ancient tree. She cradled her head in her hands and took deep steadying breaths, trying to calm down her rapid heartbeat.

A few more days. A week at the most. It was all the time she had left to stop this. Stop a needless war, stop bloodshed, prevent harm to her tribe. She'd been trying night and day to convince the Chief that this was the wrong path, searching endlessly for more visions—for something to guide her, anything to show her that this was not the path they were meant to follow. She knew it with every fiber of her being—so why couldn't she prove it? There had been no direct provocation—nothing other than a few territorial skirmishes. The tribes to the north were far larger, a warrior culture, and much better suited to fight a war then their smaller, more peaceful culture. They had held a tenuous peace for years; there was no reason to change things now.

But every time she'd try to convince the Chief, he'd just look at her patiently and ask if she had received word from the gods. When she answered no, his calmness—his certainty unnerved her.

_"That is because we already have. The answer is laying there three huts away. You already know this my daughter," he said softly. "Why do you fight it?"_

_"I don't think that is his purpose, my Chief. There are so many things that don't make sense."_

So many things. _Blue eyes, the curve of a smile. Loss_—so much that it felt like drowning in a sea of sorrow. Every godsdamn time she closed her eyes, she saw his face. Every time she searched for visions, it was only fragments of him. She couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't focus on anything other than that wounded warrior she'd found. And she was getting godsdamned sick and tired of it. Why now, when her people needed her most, was she stuck on these thoughts—these fantasies—of a complete stranger? She'd been avoiding him as much as she could, speaking to him as little as possible, but it was no use. She was cursed, she was haunted.

This had to end, and soon.

What frightened her even more was how much she'd gotten used to seeing him in those visions, how his presence was somehow a comfort. She didn't understand it, this pull towards a man who seemed to harbor secrets from the past. And yet, she reminded herself, he was supposed to be the bane of her existence. Gods knew it wasn't his fault, but it didn't matter—his presence threatened everything that mattered. Their safety, who she was, her purpose. She tried to hold on to that anger, to keep her focus. It was better than focusing on the alternative. Less frightening.

Taking out a larger amount of oracle dust than usual, she placed it under her tongue, savoring the familiar bitterness of it. Regular doses weren't working—it was time for a more aggressive approach. Taking a deep breath, she waited for the darkness to claim her.

Flying, falling, tumbling down a deep black hole. The visions wrapped around her and pressed her against the ground with their force. Trapped inside a thunderstorm, an eerie light glowing all around her. She heard his voice, but she couldn't see him. He was yelling, screaming, pleading with her to come back. To not leave him. She wanted to stop, to turn back, but something else was pushing her forward. Something that threatened to swallow her whole. She leaned forward into the darkness, only this time it turned into blinding light.

It was time. She knew it.

_"I'll see you on the other side."_

A whispered goodbye as she was pulled into the light. She didn't want this. She wanted to fight, to stay—she didn't want this to be her fate. She began to scream and struggle—

Suddenly the light vanished, replaced by cold and darkness. Thrashing and kicking, she pushed up as hard as she could, breaking the surface and sputtering about. She slowly got hear bearings and realized that her vision has vanished, replaced only by the cold clear water of the river.

Someone had thrown her … in the river.

Armed with a rage she didn't even know she possessed, she came up swinging at the figure beside her, managing to land a couple of blows before her assailant moved back out of the way.

"Kara stop! Wait! It's me!"

Blue eyes. This time wide with shock … and fear.

"L-Lee?" she stammered, more in surprise than from the cold. The rage took hold again very quickly though. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"What the hell am _I_ doing? What the frak are _you_ doing?" he shot back, his face switching from concern to anger in the space of a heartbeat. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When I found you, you were lying on the ground, nearly unconscious. I tried to wake you, but it was no use." He was furious and soaked to the bone just as she was, the wet fabric of his shirt clinging to his torso. He grabbed her by her upper arms and shook. "What the hell were you doing, Kara?"

She wrestled away from his hold, almost losing her balance in the waist-deep water. "I was trying to save us, you idiot. Trying to find a way to avoid this stupid war. That's what an oracle does—she protects her people, guides them, keeps them from harm. No thanks to you."

His face contorted with disgust. "Well forgive me if I thought you were nearly dead and took the time to revive you."

"I wasn't dead, you fool, just in a trance! Searching for some kind of sign." She couldn't believe she was having to explain this. "Gods, haven't you done enough already just by being here?"

"Me?" His face wrinkled in confusion. "What do I have to do with any of this?" Those damnable eyebrows shot up along with the pitch of his voice.

All the frustration and anger inside her just boiled up at the shocked look on his face. Didn't he have any idea what he'd put her through? "Haven't you figured it out by now? You're the whole godsdamned reason we're going to war in the first place! You're the godsdamn mystical sign that fell from the frakking sky on the very day I was searching for guidance. You _are_ the problem!" She couldn't feel the cold of the water anymore; now she was shaking from rage.

His face blanched and he actually stumbled backwards a bit. "You … can't be serious. They think I'm some kind of … _sign_ from the gods? I'm the cause of this war?" He looked ill. "But that makes absolutely no sense—less than no sense."

Kara stalked over to the bank and sat down, exhausted. "Exactly. I've been trying to convince them of that for weeks now. But as long as you're here—" she shot him a nasty look. "It just reaffirms that this war is the gods' will." She ran a hand through her wet hair.

Lee followed suit and collapsed beside her on the riverbank, staring blankly at the water for a long time. Then he began to laugh. It was desperate, keening sound, an empty hollow noise that sent chills up her spine.

"What?" she asked warily.

"Oh this? _This_ is just frakking perfect," he answered after catching his breath. "I survive the end of the worlds, years of war, make it to earth, lose you, _find_ you, only to discover that I'm literally some kind of cosmic joke?" He voice was almost hysterical. "You can't stand me, want nothing to do with me—don't even want to remember me." His eyes locked on hers, angry and so, so hurt. "I was only staying here for you, you know," he said quietly and looked away. Her heart broke just the tiniest bit.

"Frak this, Kara," he continued. "I'm not going to sit around and be somebody's excuse to start a war." He sent her a sharp, pointed look, his voice lowered to nearly a growl. "And I'm sure as hell not going to sit around here just so you can keep pushing me away." He gave another bitter laugh. "I may be slow sometimes, but I think I've learned my lesson by now." He stood up.

"Where are you going?" she scrambled to her feet with an urgency that she didn't really want to examine at the moment.

"Why do you care? You just want me gone. Well, congratulations—you just got your wish." With that, he turned and began making his way up the bank.

"My wish?" she echoed, an uneasiness settling over her.

He whirled back on her and closed the distance between them. She could feel the heat coming off his wet skin; it was a miracle there wasn't steam rising from the surface. "Oh don't tell me that you haven't wanted me gone from day one," he snarled. "The least you can do is have the guts to admit it instead of avoiding it like you always do. How about I save you the trouble of running this time?"

Her heart twisted painfully, regret mixing with anger as she took at step towards him, her face only inches away from his. "Look, I just can't handle any of this right now. I'm not ready for this—for you—for whatever it all means!"

His eyes narrowed. "There's always something isn't there? Some kind of excuse? Well at least I'm not the one who's the frakking coward, Kara," he spat back.

Reacting with lightning quick precision, she slapped him. Hard. Then, just as quickly, she caught the look of pain in his eyes and couldn't stand it, couldn't stand herself in that moment. So she did the only thing she could think of. The only thing she had wanted to do since the first moment she saw him.

She grabbed his face with both hands and brought his mouth to hers. Violently. She held his face between her hands and sealed their mouths together. She felt torn apart, the only thing worse than having him stay was the thought of him leaving and she knew she couldn't bear it. Curse the signs, curse the war—gods help her, she had to know what it all meant. She wanted him to stay.

Kara felt his hands flutter against her sides, uncertain, trying to find a place to touch her, hesitantly settling on her face as he kissed her back. The fierceness of the kiss turned gentle and she moved her lips across his in a soothing motion, connected only by their lips and hands. They stayed that way an interminable moment before Kara pulled back just enough so she could press her forehead against his. Breathing deeply, she leaned back and looked at him, the stunned look on his face probably matching her own. Slowly, carefully, she traced the red handprint on his cheek.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her fingertips touching the side of face. "I-I can't explain it… I don't remember…" she began, her voice so quiet she could barely hear it herself. "But I don't want you to go."

He just stared at her for the longest time before moving his hand to cover hers where it still cradled his cheek. He touch felt wet and warm and strangely comforting. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, the emotion there almost brought her to her knees. Scrutiny, wariness, but also ... trust. And just a hint of something else, something deeper and stronger that she didn't quite understand.

"All right," he finally spoke. "I'll stay."

*****************************

_**Next time in Crazyspacemagic Land:**_

_**Can Kara and Lee stop the war? Are they through with all their fightin'? Is Kara going to have to kick some spirit girl ass?**_

_**Until then, take care and keep on healing.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Bee**_


	6. Chapter 6

Once More, with a Happy Ending A _very AU_ K/L post-finale fic (chapter 6)

Spoilers: Through Daybreak 2 & 3

Disclaimer: It all belongs to RDM & Co Ch 6

Lee had to duck as he entered the chief's hut. The old man was seated in the corner, alone. He was the first to arrive for the special council that had been called. The Chief looked up and motioned for Lee to sit down near the small fire.

It had been three hours since Kara had kissed him on the riverbank. She had held his face for a moment longer, murmured something about needing to go, and ran off into the trees, leaving Lee soaking wet, shocked, and happier than he could remember being in a long time.

It made no sense, of course. There was no good reason he should have promised to stay—and even less of a good reason for her to ask him to. If he left, he could take away the supernatural excuse for the war she was trying to prevent, and probably help both of them keep their sanity. If he left, he could avoid getting his hopes dashed and his heart crushed one more time. He could just think of these past two months as a drug-induced dream and be done with it. And with her.

But there was no way he was going to do that. Even before she had finished uttering the words, he already knew what his answer was going to be. If there was even a chance to be near her, he would take it. Gods help him, but he was lost.

And now he sat at the Chief's fire, here to give counsel to a foreign tribe in a foreign land. He was playing the role of the messenger of the gods, joining this superstitious circus.

"Chief," Lee began, slipping back into the tribal language he'd been working so hard to learn these past few weeks. "I'm sorry—am I early?"

The old man looked up from the fire and shook his head. "No, Silah. You are on time. It is the others who are late."

_Silah_. It had become Lee's title in the tribe, a shortened form of the tribal word for warrior. Literally translated, it meant _holy weapon_.

"Others?" Lee asked. He knew Kara would be at this meeting, but he hadn't expected anyone else. "The elders?"

"No. I will not hold a full council until we know our course. I have asked my son to join us."

Lee's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed in response. _Nasr_. Lee hadn't had many encounters with the man, but he had taken an instant dislike to him. He was arrogant, and there was something about him Lee didn't trust. Not to mention the way he looked at Kara. He clenched his jaw even tighter.

The Chief must have seen Lee's face darken, because he chuckled. "Yes, Nasr is young and impetuous, but he must be allowed in council in order to learn. One day this tribe will be his to lead." The old man sighed, as if he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. Lee merely nodded.

At that moment, the subject of their conversation stepped through the entrance. His eyes fell on Lee and his father, a polite smile masking any other emotions on his face.

"Father," he nodded, then looked at Lee. "Silah." He paused. "I did not expect you to be at this council. I did not think you were… _recovered_ enough to join in tribal affairs."

"The Chief requested my presence," Lee replied coolly. "He wanted my counsel in this matter."

Nasr's smile did not reach his eyes. "Of course."

At that moment Kara burst into the hut, out of breath. "I'm sorry. I was … detained by some of the older women. There's a new strain of the coughing sickness that's developed," she finished hurriedly as she took her seat.

"Not to worry, my daughter, you have many duties."

"The Oracle has many burdens," Lee echoed softly, "the greatest being to look after her tribe." Kara's eyes met his in that instant and they softened just a bit. Their stare held for a little longer than was necessary, a slight bit of pink creeping into her cheeks as she smiled. Nasr's sharp eyes didn't miss the exchange, and he glanced between Kara and Lee, his mouth settling into a hard line.

"Well, my daughter, have you seen anything else? Have the gods given us any more guidance in our path to war?"

"With respect sir," Kara began slowly, "I do not think our path is meant for war. The gods have been silent; there has been no indication that we should prepare for battle—"

"And what of the signs that have led us here so far?" Nasr interrupted. "What of what they have sent us—what sits in our midst even now?" He motioned to Lee.

Kara didn't make eye contact with either warrior. Instead, she remained focused on the old man. "My Chief, I remain unconvinced that this man is here for any purpose that has to do with the northern tribes. In fact, I am more and more convinced that his presence is nothing more than coincidence."

"Coincidence?" Nasr spat. "How can you say such a thing? Are you not the voice of the gods for our tribe? How could you be so blind?" He paused to take a measured assessment of the woman before him. "Is it possible that you have fallen away from your purpose?" Another shrewd look, first to Kara and then to Lee. "That you have allowed yourself to become… distracted by our guest?"

Kara opened her mouth to retort but no words seemed to come out. Lee jumped in instead. "Rather than—" floundering for the next words, he looked to Kara and slipped back into his native Colonial. "Kara, can you translate for me?"

She nodded. Ever since the first day Lee had woken up from the leopard attack, it was no secret that the Oracle was able to speak the mystical warrior's language. Most believed this was yet another sign that both were anointed by the gods.

"Rather than question the Oracle's lack of signs and so-called guidance, I think we should instead look at the lack of evidence that the northern tribes are even interested in bloodshed."

As Kara translated, Nasr's face darkened. "What is it you're suggesting, Silah?" He practically hissed the honorary title.

Lee continued unperturbed. "Simply that we have no proof that they intend to make war with us. So they have crossed our borders once—what else have they done? What violent acts have they committed against this tribe?"

Before Nasr could answer, Kara added, "he speaks the truth my Chief. There has been no act of aggression, no harm that has come to our people from the north."

"My Chief," Lee finished softly, moving back into the tribal language, "based on what we know—what we have seen—why are we even considering this war?"

Nasr moved to speak, but the Chief silenced him with a hand. He closed his eyes and paused for a long time, so long that it almost seemed that the old man had fallen asleep.

"Perhaps there is some wisdom in this. Perhaps we should—"

Screams erupted from outside the hut. The Chief, Nasr, Lee and Kara all jumped to their feet at once and quickly moved outside.

"What is it?" Kara grabbed a nearby young woman. "What has happened?

"There's been an attack on the outlying settlements! The northern tribes, they—they have set the village on fire!"

Toward the north, the night was lit by an eerie orange light.

Nasr ignored the young woman and jumped up onto the dais by the tribal fire. "What on earth is this woman talking about? Who can tell me what has happened?" He looked at the nearby young men, who shrugged.

Not waiting for any more discussion, Kara began running back and forth across the tribal gathering fire, picking up animal pelts and skins of water when Lee caught up to her and grabbed her arm.

"Kara—"

"What?"

"Where was Maala going this evening?"

"How should I know? I thought she was with you."

"No—Kara, where does she usually go on nights when you're in council?"

Kara seemed agitated. "She goes to her friend's house—Neela's—why?"

"Where does Neela's family live?"

Comprehension dawned on Kara's face as the blood drained away. "Her family lives in the outlying village," she whispered.

"What's the fastest way to get there?"

Kara took exactly two seconds to plot her course. "Follow me," she said and disappeared into the darkness.

They ran through the trees until they came into a clearing that looked out over the village. It was like a scene out of a nightmare. Most of the huts were in flames and there were screams all around. People were running everywhere, either trying to keep their families together or to locate them. It was complete chaos. There were no signs of Nasr or any of the other men from the village.

Kara looked over to Lee. "You take the huts starting from the left, I'll take those on the right." He nodded once and they separated, running towards separate ends of the settlement.

"Maala!" Lee shouted as he charged toward the first hut. Wrapping the animal hide that Kara had given him around his shoulders, he charged through the door. The thatched roof was already on fire, and looked as if it was ready to fall at any moment. In the midst of smoke and haze, he saw an elderly woman huddled against the wall. Rushing over to her, he wrapped her in the crude blanket and brought her outside.

He continued through each hut he came to and imagined Kara doing the same thing on the other side of the village. Some were already empty, some held only bodies, a few others contained a child or two who'd been left behind in all the confusion. Almost out of huts to search, he ran towards the center of the village, seeing Kara only a few yards away. Looking at her, she merely shook her head.

"_Kara! Silah!_"

A little girl with long dark hair came running up to them. It was Neela, Maala's friend. Kara knelt down, "Neela, where's Maala?"

"She's still inside our hut. We were by ourselves when the fire started, but she wouldn't leave. She just stood there, frozen—I couldn't make her get out," the tears began to slide down the little girl's cheeks.

"Neela," Lee knelt down in front of her. "Which hut is Maala in?"

She pointed to a nearby hut swathed in flames. Lee turned to Kara who was already running towards the structure. Wrapping herself in one of the animal skins she'd brought, she broke through the doorway. Inside, Lee could barely see Maala's small form crouched on the far side of the structure. It looked like the roof was about to cave in.

"Maala!" Kara cried. "Maala, come to me. Please!"

Maala just stood there frozen, looking straight ahead, as if she didn't even see Kara.

"Maala please!" Kara called frantically.

The little girl didn't move.

"Okay, okay—it's okay. I'm coming to get you, little one. Just stay there."

Lee's heart froze as he watched Kara run into the burning building. In a matter of seconds, she'd reached Maala and scooped her up into her arms. But by the time she turned to get out, the ceiling was already starting to fall.

"Kara! Hurry!" Lee shouted.

Kara took off as fast as she could, but not before a few pieces of burning thatched roof fell onto both of them. Kara kept moving, but the flames began to lap at the blanket she was covered in, and the fire began to spread. As soon as she emerged from the doorway, Lee threw his blanket around both of them and brought them to the ground, putting out the flames that threatened to swallow them up.

"Kara! Maala! Are you all right?" Lee frantically checked both of them for any injuries. Maala didn't speak, she just clung to Kara stared straight ahead. "Kara, is she okay?"

Kara held her close and tucked Maala's head under her chin. "Her parents… they died in a fire." She held the little girl even tighter. "I've got her, Lee. Go see what else you can do."

Hours later, covered in soot and carrying a shaking Maala, Kara and Lee found their way back to the chief's hut. The old man was seated by the fire, pausing to take a quick drink of water. He had aged a dozen years in an instant; the burden of the wounded and the dead written in every line across his face.

He glanced up at the pair of them. "Your counsel is wise, my daughter, Silah," he nodded at each of them, "but our path is clear. We must defend ourselves. Tomorrow during daylight we will mourn and bury the dead, but then we will ready ourselves for battle." His eyes rested on Kara. "At sunset, my daughter, you will perform _melangki_."

Kara's face paled, but she closed her eyes and nodded solemnly. "Yes, my Chief."

The old man nodded in return. "Go now and rest. Silah?" the Chief called out suddenly.

"Sir?"

"You shall go with her. It worries me that the northern tribes can strike so close to our village, and Kara, your cave lies up in the surrounding hills." The Chief wrinkled old face creased even more as he studied Lee for a long moment. "I want you to… protect her."

They both spoke at once.

"You want me to—"

"You can't be serious!"

The Chief raised his hand to silence them. "This is not up for discussion. Silah, you will guard her, and look after her, as you have been looking after my granddaughter these past few weeks. This is part of your purpose here. You will stay with her until the conflict is settled with the northern tribes—one way or another." The old man sighed. "Now go, get some sleep. We have much to do tomorrow."

She sat down beside him quietly. The night felt unsettling; she could still hear the drums of war in the distance. The air was still heavy with smoke from where the outlying settlement had been burned.

"Is Maala finally asleep?" he asked, not looking up.

"Yeah. She took some calming down. On top of everything else, she's not used to the drums. Never been through a war before." Kara gave a short, hollow laugh. "Then again, neither have I."

"What is the _melangki_?" Lee asked quietly.

"It's the ritual of war, performed on the night before battle. It's—"she faltered. "I… It's a sacred ceremony," she continued. "A dark ceremony." She wasn't inclined to share anymore than that right now.

They were still for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was just above a whisper.

"You don't have to do this, you know. This isn't your fight."

Lee paused and absently rubbed his fingers across his brow. "It is now," he said softly. He looked over at her, his eyes piercing even in the moonlight. "I'm not going anywhere, Kara. I said I would stay and I meant it. Besides," he continued with a bit of smile, "someone has to watch your back."

"Oh really?" she smirked.

"Really."

"I've taken out quite a few predators, I'll have you know. And you didn't exactly do too well against that leopard."

"Oh please," Lee scoffed. "I took down that animal single-handedly." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "What does it take for a mystical warrior to get some respect around here?"

"I dunno," Kara grinned, "maybe be a bit more ... mystical?"

He raised an eyebrow and threw her a condescending look. "I'll get right on that. Although I think the mystical stuff is more your area of expertise. I just have a knack for showing up in the right place at the right time."

"Mmm..." Kara mused, thinking about how his knack for showing up had thrown her world decidedly off-kilter. Somehow though, she didn't mind. Sitting here in the darkness with him, just talking, it felt familiar. Comforting.

"So," she began carefully, "you really think you know me from some previous life? You're really convinced I used to be something—someone else?"

He head snapped up and his eyes locked on hers. "Yes—of course. We used to fly together, serve together. I was the CAG, you were the flight instructor—" he stopped short at the look on her face. "Yes," he amended quietly. "I think we used to know each other." He paused again. "What do you think?"

Kara studied him for a moment, then looked back out over the village. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I've seen you before, in dreams. In ... visions. I think I know you—you seem so familiar… but the images don't make any sense." She thought about the bird-like creatures that flew through the sky; the cold metal cage she'd been trapped in. "I was in places I couldn't have been. Done things that aren't possible." She thought about the heat of his skin pressed against hers in a moonlit field. "Things I've never experienced," she murmured. When had it gotten so hot out here?

He stayed silent so she could continue.

"Lee, I don't know what your presence means—I honestly don't. All I have is this tribe," she gestured to the valley below. "They're all I remember, all I've ever known. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe."

"Even fight a war you don't believe in?" he asked softly.

"I can't just sit by. If there's a fight, I've got to protect them. Besides, there are more enemies out there than just the northern tribes."

"You're talking about Nasr," he responded, his voice growing harder. "It's not hard to see what his agenda is."

Kara felt her lip curl in disgust. "The tribe's not the only thing he's after."

His jaw set into a firm line. "I wasn't talking about the tribe." He shrugged. "But you're right there too. There's something more at work here. What does he gain from leading the people to war?"

Kara braced her elbows on her knees and leaned forward to rub the heels of her hands against her forehead. "That's what I've been asking myself for weeks. Still can't figure it out though."

The silence stretched in front of them, broken only by the sound of the drums in the distance. They seemed to be dying down. "We will though," he said softly.

"_We?_" Kara laughed. "You're gonna charge into this mess by my side, go into battle, defend my people from enemies inside and out? Save the tribe, bring peace to the land, and manage to keep yourself alive in the process?"

"Keep _us_ alive," he corrected, and his eyes locked on hers.

"Whatever it takes."

Kara felt her heart literally skip a beat, and it wasn't from the intensity of his stare. For a moment she was thrown back into a scene where he had said this—the same words and emotions, sitting so close next to her. A lifetime ago. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Lee didn't miss her reaction. His eyes lit up and he quirked a bit of a smile. "No takebacks. Remember, Kara?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but he was quicker. Snapping out of the moment, he rose and offered his hand. "Come on. You need to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. I'll take first watch."

_Next time in CrazySpaceMagicLand:_

_The stakes get higher, as Lee and oracle!Kara draw closer. Can they stop the impending war? Can we see some buddycop action? Has Bee completely lost her mind by having so much fun making up prehistoric tribal rituals?_

_Take care and keep on healing. Love, Bee._


	7. Chapter 7

**_In this chapter..._****_Pre-war tribal ceremony. With war paint. Need I say more? *g*_**

Chapter 7

Inside the quiet hut, Sarina smoothed her long, dark hair and fastened the heavily carved bracelets around her wrists; admiring how the black wood contrasted with her pale, honey-colored skin.

She was determined to look like a queen this evening. In all of her sixteen years, she'd never seen a ceremony of this importance. She knew Nasr would be on the dais next to his father tonight, ready to lead their people to war, and she wanted to be as close to him as possible—and as visible as possible. Although she'd only been with the Chief's son for a few weeks—a brief encounter in the woods one night leading to a series of more regular encounters—she enjoyed the respect she got from the older women, and the jealous looks from all of the younger women. Being the lover of the Chief-in-waiting definitely had its rewards. It even made up for the cuts and bruises she received at the hands of her amorous partner. Wincing, she pulled up the strap of her short calfskin dress to cover a nasty mark she'd received the night before last.

_It didn't matter_, she told herself. _This was worth it._ She liked her newfound power and she intended to keep it.

There was only one thing standing in her way from a big tribal wedding next spring—that damn Oracle. She'd cast a spell over Nasr and stolen his attentions since the day the Chief's granddaughter brought her to their tribe. Even with Sarina warming his bed every night, she still caught him staring at Kara far too often for her liking. If only there was a way to get rid of that witch, Sarina thought petulantly. Oh well, at least she'd been paying quite a bit of attention to the _silah_ lately. Perhaps that would keep her away from what Sarina considered her property.

After all, she thought as she absently stroked an angry welt on the back of her thigh, she'd certainly paid her dues.

BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG

Kara's hands shook as she mixed the metallic paste in the heavy stone bowl. She'd been Oracle to her tribe for two years now—and had performed many ceremonies. But tonight was different. Everything she'd fought against these past few weeks was coming to pass; she was giving her people the gods' blessing to go to war. She'd never performed this ceremony before, never even seen it performed. She had only heard about it.

When she first came to the tribe, their Oracle, A'nai, was very old. She said she had seen Kara coming in her visions and knew that she was meant to replace her. A gift from the gods, she had said, sent there so A'nai could go and rest with her ancestors. Although the old woman was very frail, she was determined to live long enough to teach Kara the ways of their tribe, and the duties of an Oracle. She had taught her how to pray for rain, how to bless the crops, what words must be said over the young men as they depart on the hunt. There were ceremonies for everything. The blessing of the waters, for a mother who was new with child. A blessing for birth, a prayer at death. The ceremony to bury the dead—which she had performed only that morning for those lost in the fire.

A'nai had taught her that good Oracle must be strong, that she must lead her people and set an example—as her authority was second only to the Chief's. She was the representative of the gods in her tribe. The spiritual mother to the Chief's earthly father. She bore a great responsibility. _A lonely responsibility_, A'nai had called it. She must be separate from the people—she must be available to commune with the spirit world, to give guidance.

It was a lonely life, but it had never bothered Kara before. In fact, she had quite liked the isolation and the freedom that came along with it. She answered to no one, save the Chief and the gods. She had Maala, her paintings… and her dreams. And for a while it had seemed like enough. But lately it hadn't felt right. It was as if her spirit had outgrown her soul; her skin did not feel comfortable anymore. She wanted something; she was missing something. The fire within her was restless.

Most days she tried not to think about it. She kept busy and tried to ignore the way her mind took note of the fact that this restlessness had started a little over two months ago—how it began with visions and then morphed into a reality that literally dropped at her feet. She tried not to pay attention to how hyper-aware she was of his presence, how she could sense him before he even came into view. How she felt irritated or volatile when he wasn't around—and how he usually made her even more irritable when he was. But at least then she could keep an eye on him, know that he was safe. Know that he was real.

_He… was… real._

That thought consumed more and more of her mind as the weeks passed. She thought she could run from it—make it go away by hiding from him, but it had only made things worse. She felt too strongly, the flame burned too bright. She had to keep her focus. _Oracles belonged to the gods_, she reminded herself, channeling A'nai's earliest teachings.

_Oracles belong to the gods and no one else_.

She would do well to remember that lesson.

Setting aside the bowl of paint, she steadied her hands as she mixed together the strange herbs and leaves. She was a good healer, and knew how to make many different medicinal powders. But she had never made this one. This one wasn't meant to heal; it was meant to awaken desire. Lust for blood in war, and lust of another kind entirely. This was the ceremonial drug used in the ritual of war. This was her job tonight. To prepare the village for death and violence.

It served a dual purpose. The combination was lethal if ingested, but when burned in a fire, it brought forth aggression. The aggression was useful to chase out fear in young warriors preparing for battle, and also to increase the sexual appetites of everyone present, ensuring that the tribe would continue even if many or most of the young men were lost.

It was the last ritual A'nai had taught her.

_"After the marking is done, offer the blessing of war and place the dark powder in the fire. It will create a great deal of smoke. It will take a few minutes before the drugs begin to take effect. During this time, you must gather the ceremonial things together and leave. Do not look back, walk straight ahead and go."_

_"But why? Can I not stay until the end of the ritual?"_

_"What follows is of no concern to the Oracle. Humans go and commune with each other; the Oracle retreats to commune with the gods. Remember, leave immediately. To stay would only make your position more difficult."_

_Kara's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Have you ever participated in this ceremony before?"_

_A'nai's face took on a faraway look. "The tribe has been at peace for many years now. But when I was young, even younger than yourself, we went to war and I performed the ceremony then. It is very powerful magic, my daughter. You merely open the door and walk away. You do not want to be tempted."_

_"Tempted?"_

_The old woman's eyes drifted out of the cave and looked into the valley below, fixing on the largest hut in the village. The Chief's hut._

_"It is... easy to lose focus sometimes. To forget that you are promised to the gods and no one else. You do not want to stumble from that path—or be tempted to leave it altogether." She gave Kara a stern look. "You are destined for a great purpose, Kara. You must not let yourself be distracted—by anything or anyone. To abandon the duties of the Oracle would be to abandon the gods themselves. A terrible fate would follow—not just upon you, but upon all those around you. On your people. You would become a living curse."_

Kara shook herself out of the memory. Wiping her hands, she began to dress in her ceremonial clothes, leaving behind her usual shift in favor of something altogether more revealing. The paint would cover the rest of her. Tonight, the signature color of the Oracle—pure white—was being replaced by a decadent gold. Sketching the symbols she'd been taught, she began to apply the gilded paint to her skin. When she was done, she rose, unbound her hair, grabbed her cloak and picked up the dark powder and the other stone bowl full of blood.

The drums were getting louder. It was time to open the door to the darkness.

BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG

Lee stood near the fire, taking in the scene around him. There was a restlessness in the air tonight, a sense of urgency that could only be recognized by those who had fought before. Lee remembered living that way for years. Day after day, the monotony of battle stretching endlessly—until death was just a routine part of life. The cost of survival. Searching the faces in the crowd, he could tell that these people hadn't been there before. There was an excitement, a joyfulness that only the naïve would have.

His eyes kept searching for Kara; he hadn't seen her all day. He had been helping the Chief inspect the spears and knives and javelins, sharpening blades and testing them for weaknesses. Kara had risen early and gone to prepare the dead for burial. It was her job to conduct what passed for a funeral service. From what he'd heard, she was also going to conduct the ceremony tonight.

He'd already circled the fire once, and he still hadn't found her. The dais on which the Chief's chair usually sat was empty, strewn with some kind of fresh garland instead. There were no children here tonight—Maala and the others were staying with the older women and several of the elders. From what he could see, there were only warriors and younger women, most of whom were also wearing garlands of leaves and flowers in their hair. The predatory looks he was getting from some of the 'spirit girls' were starting to make him uneasy. If he didn't know better it looked like they were calling dibs on him—or at least negotiating some kind of schedule.

The Chief stood on the edge of the dais in what Lee assumed was his full ceremonial dress: long robe dyed red and black, trimmed with fur, and a huge feathered headdress that almost doubled his height. Nasr stood to his left, and was wearing a similar robe but no headdress. The rest of the warriors wore only loincloths. Lee had even removed his shirt in solidarity. No loincloth though. A pair of cutoff BDU's would have to do for this occasion.

The drums that had kept pace since sunset grew louder and the crowd grew quiet. Every head was turned toward the dais as if expecting something. They didn't have to wait long. The drums increased in volume until the ground was vibrating with every beat.

Then they stopped. And she appeared.

Kara stepped onto the dais, covered from neck to toes by a long, dark cloak. Stepping forward to the edge of platform she took a deep breath and loosened the ties, letting the fabric slide off her body and to puddle at her feet. Lee forgot how to breathe. She looked—there weren't even words to describe how she looked. The best he could come up with were _beautiful, wild, untouchable_.

Thin strips of doeskin were wrapped around her torso, barely covering her breasts and strategically wound around her hips, covering the absolute necessities while revealing as much skin as possible. The rest of her body was bare—and covered in gold paint. From her feet to her forehead, she was marked with delicate symbols and intricate patterns, swirling and moving across her arms and down her legs, over the indention above her collarbone and the curve of her cheek, caressing the soft, flat skin of her stomach. Her skin shimmered in the firelight. She was breathtaking—a living work of art. A wave of longing shot through him like a physical pain.

Her hair was completely unbound and hung all the way down to her waist, flowers woven throughout instead of a garland on the top of her head. When Lee could take his eyes off her body long enough to look at her face, he saw that she looked tense and even a little nervous. But she'd never let anyone know it. In true Starbuck fashion, she straightened her spine and raised her chin, looking down upon the tribe as if she owned the very ground upon which they stood. Her loud voice rang out over the crowd:

"The gods give shelter in rain and warmth in the dead of winter,

They fill our fields with wheat and our huts with children.

They are gods of the light, and also of the darkness.

They give life and they take it.

They make the predators and the prey, the weak and the strong.

Now we ask their blessing to shed blood.

To protect life by taking it.

Come forth all you who would take this oath!

Come and be anointed for this holy task.

Rejoice that you have found favor with the gods,

That you might end your days in battle.

Clothed in the glory of immortality."

At the end of her speech, the warriors moved to the front of the circle, standing before the fire in a large ring. Lee followed suit and stood next to the other men, watching and waiting to see what would happen next. Kara knelt down and picked up a stone bowl, handing it to a young woman nearby as she moved inside the circle. The young woman followed and held out the bowl as Kara dipped her hands inside and raised them to cover the shoulders and chest of the tribesman standing in front of her. Smearing the man with deep red paint, she stepped back, reached into the bowl again and repeated the process with the next man. Lee watched transfixed as she made her way around the circle and transformed men and boys into warriors—at least in appearance if not in truth.

In no time at all she was standing before him. Her eyes were luminous and dark in the light of the fire, but she avoided looking at his face. She dipped her hands in the paint, her lips moving in a silent incantation, and slowly lifted her hands to brush the tops of his shoulders, tracing a sinuous line down his forearms and almost to his fingertips. Up close, what looked like paint was actually blood, mixed with some kind of chemical agent to make it thicker and darker. He shivered. Paying no attention, she took a deep breath and fixed her stare directly at his chin. Softly, her hands started at the base of his throat and moved upward, following the tendons along the side of his neck before moving down his chest. It might have only taken a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. She moved smoothly down his stomach, slowly tracing the scar along his side, and moved downward still, her fingers slowing but not stopping. Instead they found a way to the edge of the waistband of his pants, causing Lee to take a sharp breath. The movement startled her and she drew her hands back as if she'd been burned. But she made the mistake of looking at him. Their eyes caught and held; neither one breathing, both perfectly still.

Just when he thought she might move forward to touch him again, the drums began. It seemed to shake her out of her trance, and she stepped back and moved to the other side of the fire. Murmuring yet another set of silent words, she knelt down again and picked up a leather bag. The warriors began chanting, a low rumbling sound that began to increase in frequency and volume. The bloodlust was starting to kick in—no wonder the children weren't allowed to attend. The aggression was almost palpable; violence just barely being kept in check.

Closing her eyes and chanting one more prayer, Kara circled the fire, lifting her arms up in supplication to the gods as she almost danced around the flames. Upon reaching the side opposite the dais, she stopped, looked to the sky, and emptied the contents of the bag into the fire. The flames shot up high into the air and dark purple smoke began come out of the fire, covering everything and everyone in its path.

BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG

Kara struggled to adjust her breathing and her eyes in the darker environment.

She shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't have made the mistake of touching him. It only made her want to do it more. She needed to get out of there. Now. She tried to remember A'nai's words as she inhaled another mouthful of the smoke.

_Gather up my things, then leave_.

She searched blindly for her possessions in the darkness, finally gathering everything together and wrapping it up in her cloak. Just as she stood, the smoke began to clear into a haze around the fire, and she could begin to make out faces and forms. The first person she saw was Lee, standing directly across from her, just staring. She stood rooted to the spot and stared back. She wasn't able to move; she didn't want to.

She began to feel dizzy and lightheaded, but she didn't care. She just wanted to touch him again—to trace every square inch of his body with her hands and follow with her tongue. From the look on his face, she was almost sure that he was thinking the exact same thing.

The spell was suddenly broken as a swarm of women appeared around him, their body language making various and unmistakable offers. Looking away, Kara felt disgusted—and angry, the effects of the smoke turning from dizziness to rage. Screw him if he wanted to spend the evening with a dozen adoring women. It's not like she cared. Hell, it's not like she was even allowed to care. Kara turned away and began stalking towards the woods, not caring what direction she was heading. She weaved through the crowd and dodged couple after couple, each in a more compromising situation than the last. Coming to the edge of the gathering, she looked around to get her bearings, and that's when she saw him.

Nasr was standing about twenty yards away, just staring at her. She was used to him looking, but she'd never seen this kind of look before. He looked feral, and dangerous. He was watching her in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and suddenly Kara knew that this time, he wouldn't keep his desires in check. The chaos of the ceremony was the perfect distraction; no one would notice if the Oracle went missing… no one to hear if she called for help….

Kara felt her blood run cold, and began walking quickly towards the woods. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that he was no longer there and knew the hunt had begun. She dropped her things and took off running into the darkness.

Leaping through the brush, she dodged trees and cleared rocks, trying to put as much distance between her and her pursuer as possible. Being barefooted, her steps were quiet enough to hear him in the distance, but it also slowed her down. After a few agonizingly long minutes, she heard water up ahead and knew she was headed toward the river. Pausing to get her breath and her bearings, she ducked back against an ancient cypress tree.

Nasr also stopped in the distance. "Ka-ra," he called in a sing-song like voice. "It's no use running. I knew this day would come and so did you. Since the first day I saw you… so lovely; I knew I would have you." His voice was coming from behind her, about ten yards to the left. She heard him move slowly in her direction. "It will be much better for you if you don't fight," he mused. "Who knows? I might be inclined not to mar that pretty pale skin of yours."

If Kara had had her spear or even her knife, she could try and fight him off. But being in her ceremonial garb she had nothing—just a few strips of fabric wrapped around her and a bunch of gold paint that was way too reflective in the moonlight. And she knew Nasr's ceremonial costume came complete with two daggers. If she took him on, she wouldn't have a chance.

She willed herself to calm down. _Focus, Kara. Find an escape route._

Letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the forest, she realized exactly where she was. She was at the edge of the trees leading down a steep slope to the river. In fact, the ground became rocky and there was a kind of cliff…

Formulating her plan, Kara took a deep breath and took off, keeping her body low to the ground. Reaching the cliff's edge she quickly rolled onto her side and swung her legs down below. There wasn't much of a foothold, but there was just enough of an outcropping that she could hide beneath the ledge. Her feet gained a bit of purchase and her hands shot out to steady her before she fell off the edge and into the river. The motion caused a bit of a rockslide and she could hear small boulders dropping into the water far below. Gripping as hard as she could, she held perfectly still and waited.

"Kara!" she heard Nasr's footsteps rush to the edge of outcropping, right above where she was hidden. "Kara! What in gods' name—where the hell are you?" he yelled. Standing there for what seemed like an eternity, she could almost feel him scanning the space below. She just prayed that her foothold wasn't far enough out that her legs would be visible.

Finally, she heard him curse again and turn away, until his footsteps were lost in the forest. Waiting a few more minutes to be safe, she took a few deeps breaths and then began the steep climb down the sharp rocks and to the riverbank. From there, she could trace the path of the river and make her way back to her cave, keeping clear of main settlement.

The adrenaline and aggression began to wear off as she followed the river's path. Next to the water, the air felt warm and damp on her skin. She made her way slowly at first, stopping every few minutes at first to listen for footsteps, but eventually she picked up her pace as she drew nearer to her home. Looking back over her shoulder out of habit, she rounded a sharp corner and ran right into a pair of steely arms.

"Kara?"

It was Lee.

"Kara, are you ok? I saw him follow you into the woods, and—" she silenced him with her fingers pressed against his mouth and looked around. He instantly understood and became silent as well, both of them listening for footsteps. After a few moments, Kara was sure that the danger had passed, but she didn't move. Instead, she became very aware of Lee's arms still around her, and her fingertips pressed against his lips. Slowly, aimlessly, she began tracing their smooth outline . He parted them instinctively and she could feel his breath against her hand. The adrenaline was fading, beginning to be replaced by something else. A corner of her mind whispered that this was just the effect of the powder and that she should leave, but she ignored it. She'd wanted this for far too long.

"Kara—" Lee whispered, as her fingers traced the word. "Kara, what are you doing?"

Without thinking, she blurted out, "I'm tired Lee. So frakking tired of this."

"… of what?" he whispered back carefully.

She felt a rush through her veins better than even the finest oracle dust. She felt drunk off her power. Screw duty. Screw the gods. She could have this. No one was watching; no one would ever know. Just one night, in the darkness, with him.

She made her decision and didn't look back.

"Tired of not being able to do this," she whispered and kissed him.

BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG**BSG

Hidden in the darkness of the forest, Sarina watched the lovers near the riverbank below, arms and legs twining around each other while red and gold glinted in the moonlight. She'd seen Kara lead Nasr into the woods earlier and, determined to protect what was hers, followed quickly after. What she found, however, was not at all what she expected.

"Well, well, well," she smiled to herself. "Looks like our Oracle is not so pure after all."

Turning away, she began to walk back toward the village, a self-satisfied grin plastered across her face. Looks like their oh-so-perfect voice of the gods was about to topple from her little pedestal. This should end Nasr's fascination with that yellow-haired bitch, she thought.

Making her way out of the trees, she went to go find her lover. She'd make sure he knew about this.

**TBC**

**_Next time in CrazyspacemagicLand:_****_Before you go sharpening your pitchforks, please know that the next chapter will involve a DETAILED report on the post-ceremony happenings that were hinted at here. And guess what? I'm posting it in a couple of days!!! So in the meantime, go off and contemplate the awesome intrigue and suspense I've created. ; P_****_Take care and keep on healing,_**

**_Bee_**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Last time on cavepilots... there was some kissin' admist a drug-induced ceremonial high. Wonder what happens now? *g***_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Chapter 8

All his life, Lee had been taught the value of control. The virtue of patience; the nobility of going without. Don't run too fast. Don't fly too high. Don't rock the boat.

Don't want too much.

Those words were a mantra repeated throughout his life. He said it every time his father left to go back to his post; every night his mother opened another bottle of wine. The first instant he touched Kara's hand. Every time he thought about his brother's grave. And a million moments in between.

Want got replaced with duty. And duty was a pretty good mistress. Duty had its rewards. Respect, admiration. Distance. Safe, unapproachable distance. And so new mantras began to replace old ones.

Make good grades. Mind your manners. Respect your superiors. Don't lose your temper. Always do what's expected of you. The list went on and on, and duty and sacrifice always seemed to triumph over desire. Don't let emotion cloud judgment and you'll be fine. Function without feeling and you'll be ok. And he was so good at doing that—so frakking good. Except when it came to her.

From the first touch of his hand on hers to the first time their lips met, tinged with ambrosia and regret and a thousand other things he tried never to feel—it had always been that way. He wanted. He'd wanted what he wasn't supposed to have. She was his brother's fiancée, his father's adopted daughter, the good luck charm of the fleet. Another man's wife. Property of the gods.

_Property of the gods_. In any incarnation, any lifetime, the roadblocks were too obvious to be ignored.

She was his salvation—and his downfall. And he was pretty sure it worked both ways.

No reason why tonight should be any different.

"_I'm tired Lee. So frakking tired of this."_

"… _of what?" _

"_Tired of not being able to do this."_

Her lips slid across his, and his skin caught fire. Her fingertips traced the contours of his jaw, and he forgot his own name. He wanted nothing more than to fall deeper in the kiss; to give in to the dark magic of the ceremony, to the lust and desire and the freedom that surrounded him. To give in to her. Even after a thousand years, he didn't think his reaction would ever be any different. It was as simple as breathing.

Her tongue grew bolder and more insistent, parting his lips and licking inside. What first felt like paralysis swiftly vanished the moment her hands pulled his face close. She wasn't the only one who was tired. Waiting could kill a man. A slow, lingering kind of death that dismantled the soul. Just another feeling he was used to when he was around her.

Despite the unease and the impatience and tinge of despair, despite the voices in his head screaming words like _caution_ and _prudence_ and … _duty_, he drew her closer and responded in kind.

They stood there locked against each other for gods knew how long. Swaying and bending in the moonlight; remembering a dance so old as to never be forgotten. It was heaven. Pure perfection.

It was only when he opened his eyes that he made his mistake. The dreamworld of illusion came crashing down to the inescapable present. The gold paint on her skin shimmered. The scents of jasmine and eucalyptus from her hair surrounded him. Her eyes opened up to his—dazed and cloudy with a drug-induced passion. And the worst of it all, she didn't remember. Still, after all this time. She wanted him, but she didn't understand why. The thought almost broke his heart, as the words of a long-forgotten philosopher echoed in his ears:

_When the gods wish to punish you, they answer your prayers._

Cursing himself, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently drew back.

"Lee?..." her disoriented whisper almost broke his resolve. "What's wrong?" A pause. "What are you doing?"

She stood in front of him. A magnificent golden goddess. And she was anything but his. She lived for a people he had only just met; she was sworn to protect them, to be their spiritual guide. Their frakking _virginal_ prophet. And like the excess of ambrosia on the night they met, he was pretty damn sure that this scene was the result of some kind of prehistoric drug-laced high.

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. "Kara, you don't want this. The ritual, the ceremony, it's all just a side effect—"

She took a step back, fury washing over her face and quickly fading into something else. Suddenly she looked fragile and so very lost. He forced himself to go on.

"You don't really want this. It isn't right."

Something in her seemed to crack at those words, the weight visibly bending her shoulders. "I see," she said quietly. "Sorry for bothering you."

She took a step to the side, but his hand shot out like a whip and caught her.

"Kara, that's not what I meant—"

"I think I understood perfectly well what you meant."

"No, I mean, this isn't fair to you—"

"To me?" Her voice was almost hysterical. "_Fair_ to me?"

*************

* * *

The gods were many things, but compassionate wasn't one of them. If anything, cruel was a far better description of their usual dealings with humans—or at least with her. More and more these days, Kara found herself becoming resentful, thinking of curses when she should have been thinking about prayers. Angry at what they had given her, and even angrier at what they had taken away.

Two years ago, when she woke up beside the tribal fire with no knowledge of her past, she gave thanks to the gods for taking care of her, for letting Maala find her and allowing the Chief to take her in. For giving her the honor of being her people's oracle—for the honor of serving the gods.

She was lost and they had saved her. They had given her shelter and a purpose. They had placed her in an exalted role. How could she not glorify them in return?

It never occurred to her that instead of being saved she might have been plucked from a former existence. Robbed of her memories, just to amuse some vindictive immortals. It had never occurred to her that she was just a pawn in this divine scenario, and that she may have lost everything as a result.

She could give the precise date and time and location those doubts began to eat away at her. The same day she looked into a pair of blue eyes and a bleeding man fell at her feet.

Since that day her world had started to deconstruct itself. The visions became stronger, and she knew she was connected to him—knew that there was something between them—something ancient and difficult and unresolved. And her life as she knew it just didn't feel like enough anymore. There was more out there—she felt it in her bones; but she just couldn't find it.

And now she'd finally made up her mind to give in—say screw the gods and fate and right and wrong just for just one night—to take what she so desperately wanted, _who_ she so desperately wanted.

The man who was now stepping away from her and telling her that they couldn't do this. Telling her that it wasn't right. That it wasn't _fair_.

The rage boiled over and she ripped her arm free from his grasp. "_Fair?_ Why the hell would it be? Since when do my feelings come into account? I can't afford to want anything!" She was blazing in front of him now.

"How dare you?" she growled. "How dare you tell me what's right? How dare you look at me as if you understand?" Hands on his chest, she flung him away from her as hard as she could. Lee stumbled backwards. "You have no frakking idea!"

Just as quickly she closed in on him again, and the violence inside her was almost palpable. "My dreams are not my own. My _body_ is not my own. My godsdamn life is not my own!" she bellowed. "And I've tried so hard. So frakking hard to do the right thing. To be what I should be. To lead them." She paced like a caged animal, raking a hand angrily through her hair. Lee started to move forward, but she pinned him back with a vicious glance.

Kara couldn't believe she was telling him all of this, but once the words came out, they just wouldn't stop. "I've tried, you know—gods know I've tried—but _you're_ there. First dreams, then visions, and now standing right frakking in front of me!" Her hands pressed wildly against her forehead, as if she could block him out if she put enough pressure in just the right place.

"I know what's expected of me—I know what I'm supposed to do. I know that I belong to them!" she pointed angrily at the sky. "But I can't make myself care anymore."

"It's a sickness," she spat. "A godsdamn disease." A hollow kind of laughter bubbled from her lips, and she caught it with her fingers. _Was this what it felt like to go mad?_ she absently wondered. "Any you think _you_ understand?" Her voice became a quiet whisper, desperate in the darkness. A single tear slid unnoticed down her cheek.

Her voice was barely audible. "Whatever fate has in store, Lee, I don't get a choice. Those are the rules, and I've always known that. I've accepted it." A long pause. "But then…" her shoulders trembled, and Kara leaned over and placed her hands on her knees, almost feeling ill. "Then…" she whispered, "they sent you. And now?" She looked up at him. "Now it feels like my soul is being torn in half."

"You son of a bitch," she breathed. "How could you possibly understand what that's like?"

************

* * *

At those words, Lee promptly felt his world fall apart. Slide completely in two in one long, clean tear. The realization began to dawn on him. All this time… all these years he had been the martyr. He'd borne the guilt just from loving her and not being able to have her—set aside, untouchable, unattainable. Meant for her gods, frozen in the memory and the honor of a long-dead brother—it was simply his lot in life to want and never have.

He'd always figured there was a special place in Hades reserved just for him and the burden of wanting what you were never supposed to have. And he'd always assumed that he was entirely alone.

He'd never imagined that she felt the same way.

Suddenly the time and the distance and the memories—or lack thereof—didn't matter anymore. Whatever cycle of time this was, whatever moment they were caught in—the story was always the same. Want and denial. Desire and frustration.

A chance at love—at life—at anything and everything that could ever possibly matter—and he was going to walk away. Again.

And let her walk away too.

"_I'm sorry._"

The words didn't seem audible at first, so he repeated them. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, for a thousand moments and lifetimes all leading up to this point. For not realizing that what struck him on Picon ages ago at the door of her tiny apartment had also happened to her. For not holding onto her tighter in that Colonial Day dance. For not forgiving her when she'd asked him to. For not just laying his feelings on the line when they'd slipped out one day. For not confronting her on that fateful morning on New Caprica. For all the stupid mistakes he'd made since.

For letting her get in her bird and fly into the maelstrom. For ever letting go.

For not realizing that, even now, she was still hurting just as much as he was—and even more, for she didn't fully understand why. His heart began to break in a new and entirely different way.

Once he started, he couldn't say it enough. "Kara—I'm so sorry," he repeated over and over again. He felt the tears threaten to choke out his voice. "I didn't know—I didn't understand," he gasped. "All this time," he mused, staring at her in wonder. "All this godsdamn time."

She was still hunched over, her hair obscuring her face, and it was difficult to tell if she'd heard him. She certainly wasn't responding. He bent down in front of her.

"Kara, please forgive me." He carefully pushed the hair away from her face. "Forgive me. I—I didn't understand." One deep breath and then he just laid it all out there. "I thought I was the only one," he whispered.

He watched the realization dawn on her face, as it had on his only moments before. She sank down in an unceremonious heap, barely staying upright as she took in the revelation.

"You mean—"

"Yes," he breathed, and eased down on his knees in front of her. "And I'm such a frakking idiot." He pressed his forehead against hers, and his lips soon followed, scattering kisses across her eyelids, cheeks, lips and chin. He wanted to cover every square inch of her—to show her just how well he understood.

She pulled back and held his face between her hands for an endless moment, searching the very depths of his soul.

"You too…?" Her voice broke a little.

He laced his fingers through hers. "Me too." This time he was the one fighting back tears.

"After all this time?"

Lee froze. "What do you mean?"

Kara shook her head. "I dunno. I just—it feels like it's taken us forever to get to this point."

He laughed softly. "You have no idea."

She gave him a small smile. "So … what are we waiting for?"

There was no room for any more words as her lips closed on his. It seemed to ignite something between both of them that kept building in intensity, their bodies pressing so close until he was sure they were melted together. Lee couldn't tell who started it, but a few seconds later they were laying in the soft grass wrapped around each other and rolling together like a couple of children. Finally, he ended up on top as they both dissolved into a fit of breathless giggles.

"This is insane," she whispered against his lips.

He replied with a soft laugh. "As long as I'm with you, I honestly don't give a damn anymore."

Searching his eyes, she shyly bit the soft flesh of her lower lip, then planted a quick kiss on his mouth. The next thing Lee knew, she had flipped them over again and sat up to straddle his hips. Almost in slow motion, she lifted shaking fingers to the ties of the doeskin strips covering her body. He reached out and closed his hands over her arms.

"Kara, are you sure? You don't have to—"

Another shy smile. "Lee, don't you think we've wasted enough time?"

Holding his breath, it was all he could do to nod. Her hands continued, loosening the straps until the garment fell down around her hips. The moonlight glistened on the gold and white of her skin, dancing across the generous curves of her breasts and down to the narrowness of her waist. He was frozen; it was all he could do to lay back and stare, a hundred daydreams wrapped up together didn't even come close.

Sensing his hesitation, she took his hand and traced it along the contour of her shoulder, down the side of her breast and across her stomach before repeating the motion in reverse. Pretty soon his hands got the hang of it all by themselves, and he couldn't stop touching her, tracing every last bit of her skin. He was so distracted by the perfect weight of her breasts in his hands, the smoothness of the skin underneath and the texture of her hardened nipples that he didn't even notice when her determined fingers began to work on the buttons of his shorts. Within seconds, amid a chorus of gaps and sighs and moans, they lay facing each other on the cool grass, hands gone still in favor of just savoring the sight in front of them. It was as if they were the only two people in the world. If only it were so, Lee thought fleetingly.

Trailing a hand up his side, she studied him for just a moment before she pulled him in for a lingering kiss. Lee couldn't get enough of the taste, and before he knew it, he'd all but pounced on her, his mouth devouring hers and his hands tracing every inch of flesh. She let out a broken gasp when his fingers slid into the soft warmth between her legs and he thought at first he might have hurt her and drew back, but her eyes fluttered open and she moaned a breathless _"Please"_ and he was lost. He stroked so carefully inside her, building up to a slow, steady pace until her hips were matching his hand thrust for thrust. When she finally fell over the edge, her startled cry sounded like music, and the look of wonder and surprise on her face was perhaps the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Once she caught her breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck and twined her legs around his waist as if she couldn't get close enough. Panting, Lee was tying to remember every polite, considerate instinct he'd ever had, but after ages of living as a monk, his body was primed for release. "Kara," he gasped, "… we can stop here… we don't have...to …do anything…else."

Her face suddenly lit up with a wicked grin. "You mean there's more?"

Almost in pain, Lee nodded.

"Show me," she whispered, bumping her nose against his. "No more wasting time."

Taking a few more precious moments to kiss and stroke her back to a fevered pitch, Lee braced above her. Regardless of what her body had experienced in the past, her mind certainly didn't remember any of it, and so he was determined to be as careful as possible. If he'd had any energy remaining that wasn't focused on holding on to what little was left of his self control, he would have laughed at the decidedly adolescent scenario he found himself in—two eager kids fumbling and breathless in the dark. It was as if the world was made new.

He brushed the hair back from her eyes. "This may hurt for just a moment, Kara." He kissed her softly. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation.

His body moved in response, sliding inside her in one sure stroke. Kara cried out, and he wasn't sure whether it was from shock or pain, but he held perfectly still so as not to hurt her. Gods, she felt so utterly perfect. He was fairly sure he was going to die from the torture of holding still, but he was not going to move a muscle until she told him to.

"Are—you—okay?" he rasped.

Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she nodded. Experimentally, she shifted her hips, and the pressure was so exquisite that he nearly lost control on the spot.

"Kara, I don't think I'm going to be able to hold back much longer—"

"Then don't, Lee." Her lips traced up to his earlobe and lightly bit the soft flesh. "_Let go._"

Every muscle sprang to life at her command, and he lost himself in a rhythm inside her. Just when he thought it couldn't feel any better, she began to find a rhythm of her own, carefully rocking back against him until they both began to feel the rising tide, their bodies connected in a tight coil—each bit of gathering tension as maddening as it was perfect.

He felt the tremors inside her begin to build again, and, burying his hands in her hair, he brought their foreheads together as they both cried out in release—first her, then him. And in that moment, he was healed. And utterly bound to her. Gods help him, but he was going to make sure they were never parted again.

Sometime later, roused from a blissful daze, Lee felt an insistent foot scrape against the back of his calves. He was still buried inside her and had no intention of letting go—ever—even though he couldn't help but think of a few practical problems this might pose in the future. He smiled.

"Lee?" Her voice was a raspy purr, and he could feel himself start to grow hard again. How was that even possible?

"Mmmm?" He murmured, pulling back just enough to look at her.

"Have you noticed something?" Her eyes sparkled with laughter.

A wrinkle creased his brow. "What?"

"In this midst of our… exertions…we've gotten a bit… _smeary_."

"Huh?"

Kara grinned. "Look down."

Glancing at where their bodies were connected, he saw what she was talking about. Her gold paint and his red paint had blended together in the heat of the summer night. Instead of being marked with careful symbols, their chests and arms were now smeared with a decidedly copperish color.

"Oh," Lee said in understanding. Turning his head, he considered a nearby shallow pool at the river's edge and gave her a wicked half smile. "How about I give you a bath?"

She laughed and flipped them over two more times, right into the cool water.

************

Kara awoke to the faint sounds of the birds in the predawn light. Stirring, she reveled in the softness of the furs tucked around her. Back in her cave, it was almost easy to believe the events of last night were a dream—but a delicious ache between her thighs and a warm wall of muscle against her back reminded her that what had happened was absolutely real.

It … was … real. The thought began to echo as the awareness of what she'd done set off a wave of panic.

_Oracles belong to the gods and no one else._

She belonged to the gods… and yet here she was, lying naked in bed with a man wrapped around her. Even in his sleep he seemed loathe to part with her; his arm instinctively tightening around her waist as if he sensed her uneasy thoughts. A'nai's words echoed in her mind:

_You must not let yourself be distracted—by anything or anyone. To abandon the duties of the Oracle would be to abandon the gods themselves. A terrible fate would follow—not just upon you, but upon all those around you. On your people. You would become a living curse._

Kara repressed a shiver at the memory, and leaned back against Lee defensively, soaking up every bit of warmth. How could this be a curse? she thought. This man beside her had materialized out of her visions and into reality—how could being with him be wrong?

Fear and uneasiness threatened to take hold of her mind—and yet, she couldn't find it in her to regret what she'd done. Kara thought of his words and the way he'd moved inside her last night and how he'd been so careful—and she knew that she couldn't regret anything. She'd wanted this, and she wanted him still. Damn the consequences. She wanted to stay here a few minutes more. Keep the world out just a little bit longer.

Old habits died hard though, and she couldn't help but whisper a penitential morning prayer as she slid quietly off the pallet.

_Goddess of the moon, goddess of the sun, have mercy on me, for I am but a blind mortal._ She hoped her vision wouldn't be anymore clouded than usual today—on the dawn of battle, she needed to give her people all the help she could.

Stretching each sore limb carefully, she pulled on a short tunic, got up and stirred the fire.

Absently, her hands began to create another metallic mixture, operating without conscious thought. Instead she watched Lee sleeping, his form still and peaceful. The lines across his forehead and around his eyes were smoothed and he looked impossibly younger, like someone from a lifetime ago. Could it really have only been two months since he'd been here? How completely the world had changed since then.

Unfortunately, it didn't prevent the nightmares from coming true.

As if reading her thoughts, the drums began quietly in the distance, waking up the village for a morning of goodbyes. Keeping her eyes back on the task at hand, and not the broad back in front of her, she finished mixing the first batch of paint and began redrawing the gold symbols on her body.

Through the haze in her mind, an unwavering truth seemed to emerge: They never seemed to have enough time. It was as if every precious moment they'd ever had had been stolen. Borrowed, with no hope of having it as their own. She pushed the maudlin thought down, along with her anxiety. The day had dawned, and with it came war. No use in regrets now.

"Kara? What are you doing?" Lee's sleepy voice broke the silence.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she gave him a pensive smile. "All the paint got … washed off last night." She tried her best not to blush. "It'd look pretty strange if I showed up this morning without my ceremonial markings."

Lee sat up and rubbed his eyes, ruffling a hand through his hair in the process. "Right. I almost forgot." Searching for a moment, he found and pulled on his shorts and joined her by the fire. "Guess I'm in the same boat," he said sheepishly, glancing down at his bare chest and arms.

Kara just smirked, and began to mix a new batch of red paint. She fixed her eyes determinedly on her work; right now she had to focus. No more time for kisses or soft words. With the dawn came the harsh light of reality, and the realization of what they were about to do.

"Sit up straight," Kara commanded, and Lee obeyed. Methodically, she began painting the warrior markings as she did last night, concentrating…

Lee's hands suddenly came up and wrapped around hers. "Kara, look at me, please. About last night—"

A rustling in the bushes outside the cave caught their attention, and they broke apart just as Maala came bounding through the entrance. Her eyes were wide with fear and trepidation.

"The drums have started again…" she was nearly out of breath from running. "I'm—I'm supposed to go with the elders and the other children into the hills to wait but—I—I had see you— to tell you bye—" the words ended abruptly as she ran towards them, grabbing both Kara and Lee in a tight little grip until the three of them formed a kind of circle.

"Please be safe," she whispered. "Please come back."

Kara was so overcome with emotion she found it hard to speak. She just hugged Maala tighter. And Lee. And after months—years—of uncertainty, of not knowing who she was or what she was supposed to do or what her purpose was, she was struck by a clarity that nearly knocked her down. She was going to make it back from this, and bring him back too. She would make sure they got through this, and that they got back to this little girl. The stakes were too high; she had too much to lose.

The gods couldn't have her—not just yet.

********end of ch 8 *************

* * *

_**Next time on cavepilots:**__****_

_**WAR!!! Scheming and plotting!!! Adventure!!! PILOTS!!!!**__****_

_**Until then, take care and keep on healing.**__****_

_**Much love,**__****_

_**Bee**_


	9. Chapter 9

-  
Chapter 9  
-

It was too beautiful a day for war.

The sun rose warm and gold from across the eastern bank of the river, and the songs of the birds filled the nearby valley in which the village sat. The air carried a crisp, clean smell of a morning in which autumn couldn't far behind.

It was far too lovely for violence. For death.

An odd though struck Lee: he had only ever known combat in the empty darkness of space. Aside from a brief adventure on Kobol, there had been no warmth from the sun or green from the grass in his experience—all was grey and cold and dark. It seemed like such a sin to bring destruction onto actual honest-to-gods earth, but it was too late for that now.

The warriors began to gather until over a hundred men were assembled before the Chief. Nasr stood close to his father's side, conferring with his aides—the _wali_ as they were called. Guardians of the chief, the royal bodyguard. After a moment, Nasr stepped forward and silenced the crowd with a wave of his hand.

"The time has come to challenge the tribes of the North," he said. "According to our scouts," he gestured to the men beside him, "the northern army is marching toward plains east of the great river bend. Three quarters of our forces will go with me to engage them head-on."

"The remaining warriors will stay with my father and approach from the southwest. They will take shelter in the hillside and wait there to assist our primary force. When the time is right, the will ambush the northern army, dividing their warriors and splitting them up in order to gain an advantage."

A murmur of approval swept through the crowd.

"But who will lead this second force?" a seasoned warrior spoke up. "You, Nasr, are our general." A number of the men murmured and nodded in agreement.

Nasr smiled and bowed his head in mock humility. "One far greater than me," he said. "One anointed by the gods themselves." He motioned toward Lee, and suddenly, all eyes in the crowd rested upon the _silah_. "That is," Nasr continued under his breath, "if you think you can handle the responsibility."

Lee's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected to be offered such a leading role, especially by this particular person. He studied Nasr for a long moment, trying to figure out what this might mean, before setting his mouth in a firm line and inclining his head. "I think I can manage," he added dryly.

"Now all you're missing is an oracle," a decidedly female voice echoed over the crowd.

Kara emerged from the nearby trees, and Lee couldn't help but let his eyes linger. Gods, she was beautiful. She met his eyes briefly then looked away, a faint pink lingering on her cheeks. She was once more covered in gold paint, only this time she was wearing a far more substantial leather tunic, complete with a bow slung over her shoulder, two knives tied to her waist and another laced around her thigh. She was also carrying a spear in her hand. Lee had to suppress a grin. Kara always did like to go into a fight heavily armed.

The rest of crowd wasn't happy though. The Chief scowled, and Nasr's face was a mask of barely contained rage. His father spoke first. "My daughter, noble as your intentions are, we cannot risk your safety."

Kara looked affectionately at the old man and her tone was respectful—but firm. "You know that I can look after myself, my chief."

"Even so," Nasr interrupted, "This is preposterous! It's unheard of! We cannot take a woman into battle and risk such bad luck." The hard lines of his face seemed even more incensed than the situation warranted, and Lee could tell that he was struggling to keep his anger in check. Something clearly wasn't adding up. The animosity towards Kara was almost palpable.

Kara fixed him with an ice cold stare and gave him one of her scariest smiles, the frightening one the old Kara would have used right before she'd put a gun to someone's forehead and pulled the trigger. "Would you risk the gods' anger by going into battle without their guidance? You want them to bless this fight or not?"

An uneasy round of voices carried through the crowd, but Nasr stayed silent.

Kara kept on going and turned to the warriors to make her case. "If we are to win, we must honor the gods."

Nasr just stood there, nostrils flared, taking long, deep breaths. He looked as if wanted to tear her to pieces. Just when Lee thought he couldn't manage to dislike the sonofabitch any more—five more seconds of this and Lee would be ready to intervene with a spear in hand.

The Chief's voice sounded again. "This highly unusual, my daughter. I see the wisdom, but I am not sure if it is worth the price." He gestured to Lee. "_Silah_—anointed of the gods—what say you?"

Kara's eyes rested on him with that same patient, unnerving stare that promised untold amounts of pain should he give the wrong response. Lee just shook his head. There was no getting out of this—even though he had his own concerns about her ability to handle a fight when there were so many things she still didn't remember. "My Chief," he said carefully. "I've learned better than to argue with an oracle. I only ask that she stay under my protection during the battle."

Kara's jaw dropped. "I don't need any protection—"

"Agreed." The Chief cut in. "She will stay with you." He looked at Kara, who had closed her mouth but was still fuming. "I mean it, my daughter. This is not a request."

Mouth set in a firm line, she nodded once.

Just when Lee thought Nasr's face would turn purple from rage, his countenance changed suddenly, as if a lightswitch had been flipped and the hostility cut off. "Of course you are right," he said to no one in particular. "The Oracle and the Chief should be under your protection, _silah_, so that you may safely see them through this."

Before Lee had a chance to react to the change in demeanor, Nasr had turned to speak with the _wali_. Then he heard a very familiar voice.

"So I need protection now?" Kara wasn't happy.

He glowered. "You remember being in battle?"

She paused. "Not exactly. But—"

"—No," he cut in. "No buts. Until you remember the finer details of hand-to-hand combat, I'm gonna be right by your side."

She made a slight huffing sound. "Stuck like glue? Right on my six?"

Lee grinned and tapped her on the chin before ducking out of reach. "Now you're getting the idea."

"You're gonna lose that hand next time, Adama."

His face broke into a smile. He couldn't help it. No matter what lifetime—gods, he loved this woman. His thoughts were interrupted by Nasr's voice echoing over the crowd.

"It is time, my brothers. Let us march to war!"

The smile faded, and Lee winced at the joyful cries that responded. _The fools. They have no idea what they're getting into._

He tightened the grip on his spear and glanced at Kara. He was going to make damn sure they both survived this day.

oo~~~ooo~~~oooo~~~oooo~~~ooo

The fucking whore.

As if no one could tell that the golden symbols covering her body had been repainted in a different order. As if no one could see the faint blush on her cheeks as she glanced in _his_ direction. Godsdamned bastard. He looked at her with unchecked admiration, like a man in love.

He wanted to kill them both.

He remembered Sarina telling him of the embrace she'd witnessed by the river bank the night before. His hands itched to tear them both limb from limb. He could spend a full day drawing out the pain as far as possible before they succumbed to death. What a pleasure that would be.

But he couldn't allow himself the luxury. At least not yet. Too much time had gone into planning this; he couldn't allow himself to become distracted. Not when everything was finally coming together.

He glanced at his men and silently motioned for them to go on ahead. The trap had been set. The plan had been laid.

Now all that was left was to watch it play out.

ooo~~~oooo~~~~~oooo~~~~ooooo

Lee waited for a dozen or so troops to move on ahead before he began walking alongside Kara. Around thirty warriors had set off with them and the Chief shortly after daybreak.

"So…" he began, "Nasr looked angrier than usual this morning." Kara could tell he was trying to sound casual as they followed the last of the soldiers up the steep hillside and into the forest. The two of them were bringing up the rear of the second force that was to set up on the ridge above the battlefield.

"Well, he's not exactly cheery to begin with," she mumbled.

"I meant he looked angrier than usual at _you_," Lee continued. "You guys have some sort of showdown before the meet and greet?"

"Nope." She kept on walking.

But he clearly wasn't ready to leave things alone. "Nothing out of the ordinary? Nothing I should be aware of?"

He sounded like a concerned boyfriend, and she had no idea how to handle it. Kara stopped suddenly and turned to face him. Lee had to zigzag around her to keep from knocking her down. "You really want to know? Let's just say mr.-psycho-of-the-jungle tried to get frisky after the bonfire last night."

Lee instinctively curled his hand around the hilt of the long knife at his side. "Frakking bastard," he breathed. "If he so much as touched one hair on your head—"

"No," she shook her head. "Nothing happened. I took care of it. Lost him in the woods and then made my way back to the river before I ran into you. I think you'll remember the rest," she said with a cross between a smirk and a blush.

Now it was Lee's turn to stop.

Kara continued a few more steps until she realized he wasn't behind her anymore. "Lee, really, I'm fine."

"Shhhhh." He put a finger to his lips. Kara stilled and looked around, but nothing seemed out of place.

"What?" she whispered.

"I'm not sure," he finally said. "It just feels like we're being … _tracked_."

Kara took a careful look around her this time, tuning her awareness to the elements around her. A canopy of trees, waist-high brush, a steep hillside, and a slight breeze from the northwest. She couldn't sense anything else. She met his eyes and shook her head. "I can't tell anything's wrong," she replied.

He pressed his lips together and was silent for a moment longer before he shrugged it off. "You're right. Guess I'm just getting paranoid."

She reached out a hand to trace softly along his shoulder. "Being on your toes isn't the worst thing in the world when you're heading into battle."

"Yeah." He sounded distracted. "We should catch up to the Chief."

They made their way along the ridge to the front of the line, until they reached the tribe's leader. Ahead of him were several of Nasr's scouts, including, Hasmin, a _wali_ who had been sent with their force to guide them to the crest of the hillside to wait.

The old man looked especially weary today, Kara thought. Out on the trail he seemed so fragile, so ancient. She fell into step beside him. He looked over at her and smiled.

She never even saw the first arrow.

The warrior in front of her crumpled to the ground, a jagged piece of stone sticking out of the side of his neck. He made no noise, save for the gurgling sound of the blood as it drained out his body. Then, as if in slow motion, she watched Hasmin's body fall to the ground along with several other scouts.

"Kara down! Now!" Lee sailed past her, pulling her and the Chief down with a harsh grip. All three hit the forest floor before Lee dragged them under a patch of brush.

It took a second to find her voice. "Wh—where?"

"Top of the hillside, I think. Don't know how many. Black markings on the shields."

"The Northern tribes," the chief breathed. "This is an ambush."

Lee placed a knife into Kara's hands, which she didn't realize were shaking. "Use this and stay low—both of you. I'll be right back." And with that he vanished into the woods, appearing only for a moment from around a tree ten yards away to launch his spear at one of the attackers, impaling him beneath the ribcage. Then he was gone.

Kara worked to keep her breathing under control, even as the cries and sounds of ripping flesh and broken bones filled the air around her. It wasn't fear so much as panic. And frustration—she was desperately trying to search for a memory that she couldn't find. The knife felt slippery and foreign in her hands.

All that was forgotten as soon as she saw a black-painted warrior charging toward her, spear in hand. Instinctively, she slipped beneath him and severed his hamstring, bringing him to a cashing halt. Kara scrambled out of reach and backed up until she hit the nearest tree trunk. The warrior's scarred face twisted in pain as he crawled toward her, his spear still in hand.

Her body froze, and her mind blanked out, even as she screamed for it to remember something—anything. Just when the warrior raised his spear to strike her, a long blade slid across his neck, opening a gash that let his blood flow out like a waterfall. The spray hit Kara in the face, shaking her out of the trance. She looked up to see the Chief wiping off his dagger.

"It' all right, my daughter," he said softly. "I'm here."

Kara nodded, still not trusting her voice.

"Come on," he continued, as if talking to a small child. "Take my hand."

She reached out to grasp the weathered old hand just an arrow struck him in the chest. Another followed quickly, sinking into the soft flesh of his stomach.

"_No!_" Kara cried and leapt to grab him as he fell. She caught his body and gently laid him one ground before looking up to see the direction of the shooter. Another arrow sunk into the tree right above her head.

She could tell the old man was in a lot of pain, even though he wasn't saying anything. Kara ripped off a piece of her tunic to stem the blood flow. "Stay here, my chief," she whispered and pressed his weathered hand to her lips.

Crawling on her stomach across the dirt of the forest floor, she took shelter from behind a nearby tree. He prey was less than 10 yards away, a cluster of archers protected by a grove of trees. She moved further back, crouching against the base of a nearby cypress until she could get a better view. Taking off the bow slung around her shoulder, she carefully loaded and it quietly took aim.

_Just like a stag on the hunt, Kara. No different._ She inhaled with her arm tense on the string and exhaled with her release, just like she'd been taught. The arrow sailed through the air and lodged in the head of the nearest archer.

"Okay," she said to herself, "okay. Little high, but that'll work." She did the same thing again and again, launching arrows into the nearby glade and hitting a different archer each time. The less she thought about it, the better she got—like if she could just step back enough, the muscle memory would take over. It was oddly disconcerting, but she wasn't about to question anything right now.

She finished off the group of archers, then moved on to any other attackers in sight, taking out one after another until she ran out of arrows and she had to use her spear. Then once the spear was gone she crept along the edges of the tree line, knife in hand, looking for more soldiers. But all was quiet—the sounds of fighting had disappeared.

As soon as she was sure it was clear, Kara ran back to where the Chief lay. Frantically, she checked his wounds. He was losing too much blood. She pushed the hair back from his face. "I'm going to have to pull of the arrows so I can stop the blood flow."

He grabbed her hand and gaze it a surprisingly strong squeeze. "It's ... no use my daughter. The wounds are too severe."

"No," Kara shook her head violently. "_No_—I can fix this."

"It's too late," he breathed. "I am old. I have lived a good life. You must … go on without me," he finished and made a horrible coughing sound. The blood was starting to pool in his lungs. It wouldn't be much longer now.

"I have loved you, my daughter," his voice was hoarse and very shallow. "Take care of this tribe, and of Maala. She loves you so." He drew in one more breath. "And of the silah, who loves you too…" His eyes closed and his breathing stilled.

And then he was gone.

**_OH NOES! This is bad! What could possibly happen next? I dunno, but I think it's gonna get worse before it gets better. Tune in next week for more cudgels and bludgers and daggers, oh my!_****_Until next time, take care and keep on healing._****_Lots of love,_**_**  
**_**_Bee_**


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Lee moved through the forest at a breakneck pace, trying to avoid ending up on the wrong end of someone else's spear. He hadn't fought anything other than the occasional leopard or lion in ages, and certainly nothing on two feet, but muscle memory quickly took over and it wasn't long before he was disposing of their enemies with pretty decent efficiency. His mind was somewhere else though, the sounds of battle being drowned out by three little words:

_Keep her safe_.

He fought down a wave of panic and tried to concentrate. He scanned the ridge above to try and figure out exactly where their attackers were coming from and motioned the warriors closest to him to follow—but the fear kept coming back until it was all he could think about. She didn't remember. One of the best hand-to-hand fighters he knew and she didn't remember a damn thing. He prayed she'd stay put long enough for them to secure the perimeter. Their attackers held the superior position at the crest of the hill, making the tribesmen sitting ducks in the middle of the forest valley below. He couldn't risk going back until they had the advantage.

But it didn't stop him from glancing over his shoulder at where he'd left her and the Chief, searching for any sign that she was all right. Hunting wild animals could sharpen your skills with a knife and spear, but it was no substitute for combat experience. You couldn't lose focus for a second, couldn't afford to let your reflexes be the slightest bit lax, something he was sharply reminded of as an arrow flew past his head. Shit. That was close. He selfishly wished that a few of her memories would surface just long enough to give him some backup; right now he could use it. He knew they had more men, but their attackers had the element of surprise—and better weapon skills. That plus their better position meant that the chance of surviving this wasn't good.

They fought their way up to the top of the hill. This was definitely their point of attack; half a dozen soldiers with the strange black markings were positioned there, bows in hand, picking off the tribe's warriors one by one. He and the other warriors made quick work of the first few, and things were starting to look up when suddenly one of the attackers charged him from behind, knocking his remaining weapon out of his hand in an attempt to slice him open with a long blade. They fell to the ground, and Lee focused all his energy on keeping that blade a safe distance from his still beating heart. The rest of him wasn't so lucky though, and he ended up with a jagged slice across the top of his arm just before he managed to turn the knife on his opponent.

Lee pushed upward with all the strength he had, thrusting the blade under the other man's ribs even as he wrapped his hands around Lee's neck with something akin to a death grip. Vision going spotty, he gave one last push higher and harder, and at last felt the man's strength give way. He shoved the body off of him, taking a moment to scrape some air back into his lungs. That's when noticed the strange lack of noise—the woods were quiet again.

Looking around, he saw that everyone else on the ridge was dead—attackers and tribesmen alike. Muttering a curse at the gash on his arm, he quickly grabbed one of the black strips of cloth adorned with the same strange markings that made up the dead man's garb and fashioned it into a tourniquet. Pausing just long enough to grab his spear and his knife, he ran back down the hillside, surveying the damage and noting that for every dead attacker lying on the ground, there were at least two dead tribesman. He didn't see a single person still standing—not friend or foe—and the awareness made him move even faster. She had to be all right. His brain wouldn't entertain any other thought.

Heart pounding, Lee sprinted toward where he'd left her and the Chief. That spot was now empty, but he saw movement a little further down and nearly cried out with relief. It was Kara, alive and whole, crouching close to the ground. She was sitting on the forest floor. No, not sitting—she was kneeling over something.

He stopped short. She was holding the Chief's body in her arms, rocking back and forth. Slowly, Lee approached and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Kara—"

She moved quicker than he could have imagined, arm swinging wide, the curved blade of her knife barely missing his chest.

He jumped back and grabbed the hand with the knife before it could do anything else. "Kara—Kara!" he shouted. "It's me." She looked up, but her eyes were wild and unfocused. She kept her other arm wrapped around the Chief's body, holding him close, but his eyes were closed and he was not breathing. Lee couldn't tell how long he'd been dead, but from the amount of blood staining his clothes and Kara's tunic he knew that he'd been badly wounded before the end.

"We can't stay," Lee said gently. "There may be more. I can't protect you out here."

She just shook her head and began rocking back and forth again.

"Kara, we've got to find the others."

"_No_."

He took a firm grip on her arm. "It's not safe," he barked, using his best CAG voice. He began to pull her away from the Chief's body and she let out a wrenching, guttural scream. As if on cue, he heard voices in the distance, punctuated by a spear sinking into the tree trunk just above his head. They may have been the only ones to survive this ambush, but it wasn't going to stay that way if they didn't get out of here.

"We're going—now." He pulled her upright by the waist, ignoring her struggles, and was this close to tossing her over his shoulder when an arrow zipped past them, this one sailing just in front of Kara's face. It seemed to bring her back to her senses enough so that when he yanked hard on her hand, she took off running with him.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, all but dragging her along, not stopping until they reached higher ground where the trees were denser and provided better protection. The woods were unfamiliar though, and he'd lost all sense of direction during the battle. He turned to Kara.

"The other tribesmen—which way did they go?"

She looked up, as if she was just now realizing he was there. She let go of his hand and scanned the trees. "East," she said in a detached voice.

They headed in that direction, taking care to stay hidden in the heavier bits of foliage in case they should run into any more attackers. Finally the forest gave way to a clearing and he could see their remaining troops assembled on the plains ahead.

"Turn back!" Lee shouted, running through the rows of warriors, trying to make his way to the front. Kara was still trailing right behind him, and finally, they reached the front lines where Nasr was speaking with the wali. Their presence had attracted quite a bit of attention though, and the other soldiers began to crowd forward, trying to see what was going on.

"It's a trap," Lee said, barely able to catch his breath. "The Northern tribes—they were waiting for us. Ambushed us. We have to retreat."

Nasr looked shocked. "An ambush? But what happened to your warriors?"

"All gone," Lee explained, still winded. "No survivors."

"But—" the other man froze. "My father. Where my father?"

"He's dead," Kara said quietly, her eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

Nasr looked back at Lee, his face grave and pale. "Is this true?"

Lee just nodded. "They caught us in the valley and struck before we could react. We lost them all," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

Nasr gave him a hard look and scrubbed a hand over his face, keeping silent for a long time. "Well, it's obvious we can't stay here," he said, and Lee couldn't help butthink that those were about the most sensible words he'd ever uttered. He'd been dreading trying to convince the remaining warriors to turn back when their young general was so bent on war. "If they know about the second group of warriors," Nasr continued, "then they know how we plan to attack them. Clearly we have a—"

"TRAITOR!" a harsh scream echoed over the crowd. All eyes turned to a wounded man, bruised and bloodied and limping into their midst. It was Hasmin, the wali scout who'd been sent to lead the their group of warriors. Lee was almost sure he saw him fall at the beginning of the ambush, and he was distracted for a moment replaying the first few seconds of the attack in his mind until—

Until Lee saw who he was pointing at.

"You!" The man shouted, holding out a shaking arm in his direction. "You told them of our plans! You are not of the gods. This man is a spy sent from the North!"

The crowd fell silent, every eye now fixed on the Silah.

"That's a lie!" Lee responded. "I know nothing about the North."

"Hasmin," Nasr said evenly. Reasonably. Lee felt an unease settle over him, like he was watching all of this happen from very far away. "Hasmin, loyal brother. These are very serious words. What proof have you of this treachery?"

"I—" Hasmin wavered. "I saw him give the signal for their attack!"

"What?" Lee said, baffled by the accusation. "What are you talking about?"

"And his arm!" Hasmin continued, ignoring him. "Look at what he wears on his arm! The symbol of the Northern tribes! That is where his loyalties lie."

"What the—I pulled this off a dead body—I was wounde—" His voice was cut off by a series of murmurs in the crowd. They were growing uneasy, and, incredible as it seemed, were starting to believe the other man.

Hasmin wasn't finished. "And he turned the gods against us! He sought to bring a curse upon us through _her_!" Now he was pointing at Kara. "He used dark magic to seduce our holy Oracle. I saw them together the night of the pre-war ceremony."

A host of angry shouts went up, and he felt Kara's body go completely still. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground, saying nothing. Lee instinctively moved closer to her, as if somehow he could shield her from the crowd's hostility.

"Is this true?" Nasr's tone was chilling in its calmness. He gave Kara contemptuous glance, but his gaze fixed on Lee.

He answered truthfully. "I am no spy. I gave no signal. And I know nothing of dark magic."

The crowd grew louder, and Lee could feel them begin to close in. "And yet," Nasr continued, "only you and our …_oracle_—" he made the name sound like an obscenity "—survived."

"And _your _scout," Lee said, eyes locked on the man in front of him, but his words were drowned out by the increasing volume of the crowd. Nasr had heard though, and he held Lee's gaze for a moment, a flicker of triumph passing over his features.

The frakking bastard.

Suddenly it all made sense. The other man bowed his head, appearing to be in deep thought, looking to the rest of the world like every bit the solemn, dutiful leader. He paused a second, then glanced back up at Lee before making his final move. "It is true then—" he cried out in a loud voice. "We have been betrayed!"

And with those words, all hell proceeded to break loose.

Lee heard the shouts behind him but he didn't need to look. He grabbed Kara's hand and took off into the woods, exactly one step ahead of the host of arrows that rained down in their wake.

* * *

_Oracles belong to the gods,_

_Oracles belong to the gods and no one else_.

Kara repeated the familiar litany over and over again. To forget that basic tenant was to forget her teaching. To abandon the ancient wisdom was tantamount to begging for a curse.

She had become that curse.

Leaning against the stone wall, she looked down at the knife in her hands, flipping the blade over and over, the feel of the sharp edge against her skin the only thing keeping her thoughts at bay. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the Chief's face—struggling to breathe, lifeblood draining away. Looking at her with such love, with such unguarded faith. Trusting her.

Her fingers wrapped around the blade and squeezed, nearly drawing blood.

"I don't think they're still tracking us, but we should wait here a few more hours to be safe. Then we can go."

She looked up. Lee was looking out into the trees, studying the fading light as dusk settled over the forest. He was dirty and wet, soaked to the skin by a light rain that had started the in the last hour. She wasn't in much better shape. They had run until their legs had nearly given out, taking refuge in a cave far from her peoples' lands—all the way into the territory of the Northern tribes—too far for Nasr's men to find them.

There was a story her tribesmen told, no more than a children's tale really, of a demon sent from the underworld to gather souls for his dark master. Horrible, vicious, terrifying to behold—it was impossible to believe that anyone would follow him willingly. But this demon was clever. He concealed his true form and clothed himself in light, becoming so beautiful that any poor, unsuspecting soul would do whatever he asked.

_Trust not the messenger_, the story concluded. _Only that which is the message_.

"Go where?" she asked, speaking for the first time since they fled from her kinsmen.

"Further north?" he answered. "Away from the river? I'm not sure, but it's clear we can't go back."

Kara studied him carefully. Even perfectly still, she could see the wheels turning in his mind. When she'd woken up this morning, she would have sworn on her life that he could be trusted. But that was a lifetime ago. Everything had changed. She was covered in blood, the dying screams of her people echoing in her ears. They had been set up, and the man standing in front of her had somehow managed to survive the massacre—had managed to be the only survivor other than her. And now he was dead set on running.

Only a fool would call that coincidence, and Kara Thrace was no fool. Trust only the message.

She refused to think about anything else that had happened between them; she'd go crazy if she did. Instead she pushed down the memories, walling them off until only one emotion remained. The anger began to rise with in her, a drumbeat pounding up her spine and through her blood until the shame began to fade and all she could think about was vengeance.

Lee was speaking again, but she hadn't heard him. Instead she pushed off the wall with a lazy grace, moving slowly until she was directly in front of him.

"Give me one good reason," she said calmly, still turning the knife over in her hands.

He looked at her, confused. "Huh?"

"One good reason why I should trust you."

His gave her a look of disbelief. "Kara you can't be seriou—"

Before he could finish she had him pinned on the ground, her knife poised over his heart. "Oh, I'm quite serious," she answered. "I'd think very carefully before responding if I were you."

He just looked at her like she'd gone mad.

"No other survivors, Lee. Just you. Pretty convenient, huh? Go on," she pushed. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you're not a spy. That you weren't sent here to cloud my visions—to … distract me." Her hand tightened on the hilt of her knife. "Tell me you're not the traitor."

The shock on his face slowly settled into anger. He stared back for a long moment, all but daring her to do something. "You really don't remember?" he asked.

"No."

"Not a single thing?"

Eyes narrowing, Kara pressed the tip of her blade against his skin in response.

"Nothing?" he continued, his voice impossibly calm, "nothing at all?"

Her patience snapped. "No!" she cried. "I. Don't. Remember. Why do you keep asking me?"

What came next happened so quickly she didn't have a chance to react. Before she could blink, Lee had flipped her onto her back. A second later he'd pulled the knife out of her hands, pinning her arms above her head with one hand and using the weight of his body to trap her legs beneath him. His other hand now held the knife at the base of her throat, ready to strike. Try as she might, there was no room to maneuver and Kara quickly realized th ere was no way she could gain the advantage. She stilled.

"Now listen and listen well," Lee said, leaning forward until they were inches apart, his face hard and cold. "I could kill you right now. Before you could even make a sound. And you don't remember anything, so you wouldn't react fast enough to stop me." He leaned even closer for emphasis. "And If I'm the traitor, then why wouldn't I?"

They stayed that way, motionless, until the anger on his face began to fade. He looked so tired all of the sudden, so sad. Lee shook his head. He placed the knife down beside her but didn't get up. "But I'm not going to do that," he said softly. "Just trust me when I say that hurting you is the last thing I want to do."

She couldn't stand to look into those godsdamn eyes anymore so she turned away and faced the wall of the cave. "I think you've made your point," she said coolly.

He let go of her and pushed up, putting some much needed distance between them. After a minute Lee pulled her into a sitting position and placed the knife back into her hand, closing her fingers around the carved handle.

"I guess it all comes down to trust," he said, his face impassive. He released her and stood up, walking over to the entrance of the cave, crossing his arms and staring out into the rain. "You either trust me or you don't. But I'm not the problem."

She felt her hackles rise with every breath she took. "Then what is?" she gritted out.

He whirled around. "You—your gods—the fact that you're convinced you've somehow brought this down on everyone's heads. Take your frakking pick!" he cried, exasperated.

Kara didn't answer, just stared back, mouth set in a firm line. She got up slowly, rubbing her wrists, and his eyes followed the movement.

"Look—I'm sorry." He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "But just take a moment and think. Look at everything that's in front of you and then make the call. Something tells me there's a lot more at work here than you breaking some divine rules."

She said nothing.

"Just think about it, Kara. This had nothing to do with you. Or me. You know who's behind this."

"Nasr," she said, stating the only other conclusion.

Lee nodded. "And I'm pretty sure this was his plan all along. He played all of us. There was nothing you could have done."

She was silent for a long time as she considered his words. "You're wrong," she said. "I should have seen it—in my visions. I knew something wasn't right."

He just gave her a long, measuring look.

Kara met his stare. "But I turned my back on the gods," she said, voice growing stronger along with her conviction. "I failed, Lee. I had one mission, one purpose—to lead my people and keep them safe—and I frakked it up. Because I was weak. Because I—we..." she faltered, thinking back to their night together, when the nearness of his body made her forget everything else; all those promises and soft words giving her the dangerous idea that anything was possible.

But that wasn't the world she lived in.

"What—" he crossed his arms and gave her a condescending look. "So you failed to prevent a coup d'etat because we slept together?"

Now it was her turn to glare. "Oracles are meant for the gods and no one else," she said, pointing out the obvious. She couldn't believe she had to explain this. "That's the way it is. And you don't mess with that. Not unless you want to unleash their anger."

"Kara—"

She cut him off with one look. "I screwed up and now I've got to make it right."

"And just how do you plan to do that?"

She shook her head and tried to think of what she'd been taught, but it's not like there was a handbook for this sort of thing. "I don't know. Find a way to appease them. Make amends. Provide a sacrifice. Perhaps my blood would—"

Lee reached out and caught her arms. "No—gods! Would you just listen to yourself?"

She quickly pulled away from him. "It's not your choice."

Suddenly he was blocking her path, one arm braced on the wall of the cave just in front of her. "Tell me something," he said, voice growing hard. "Those dreams, those visions that you have? How do they end? Happily? Full of sunlight and joy and the long years of your life lived out in peace?"

Kara looked away, trying like mad not to show how exposed she felt.

Lee didn't wait for a response. "Because I know how they end. I've watched you destroy yourself for the sake of fate. For the sake of your gods. I've watched you do it twice now."

She took a steadying breath and met his eyes. "This isn't just about me. It's about saving my people—trying to undo what has happened. And if my life can make a difference then it's worth it."

"You can't mean that."

She pushed him out of the way and moved to the other side of their narrow cave, anything to put more distance between them. "Some things are worth fighting for."

His face twisted into a bitter smile. "Is that what your gods say? How they get you to do their dirty work?"

"You know nothing of the gods," she sneered.

"I know that you shouldn't be so eager to trust them."

"You couldn't possibly understand—you don't know what it's like," her voice rose in pitch along with her anger.

"But I know what it's done to you."

The arrogance, the absolute certainty in his voice pushed her over the edge. "Why the hell should I listen to you?" she was nearly shouting now. "You don't believe in anything!"

"And you believe too much!" he snapped.

They stayed that way for several minutes, bodies tense, eyes locked on each other, lost in a battle of wills from which there would be no winner. The condescending expression on his face just made her anger peak even more, and she gripped the handle of her knife even though she knew that an attack would be pointless.

After what seemed like an endless silence Lee spoke. "Look... it's been—" he stopped and gave a short, hollow laugh. "I was going to say 'long day,' but that doesn't even begin to cover it." He leaned over and scrubbed a hand across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Let's just get some rest."

Darkness had fallen outside, and the birds were beginning to sing their evening songs. Kara found herself nodding. "Yeah."

"Get some sleep," he said. "I'll take first watch."

Too exhausted to argue, she just slid down until she was sitting on the ground, legs drawn in, arms wrapped tightly around them. Lee didn't say anything else, just picked up his spear and sat down in the entrance to the cave with his back to her.

She laid her forehead against her knees and tried closing her eyes. She was beyond exhausted but sleep wouldn't come. Instead, the events of the day replayed themselves until they wound down into a series of images. She thought of her people, her friends, her kinsman. Her home. Pictures flashed across her mind—the frail old man who'd taught her to fashion her first spear. The young mothers and old women who'd become her friends. The elders whose stories she'd listened to many a night by the tribal fire. Her beloved Chief. Maala.

_Maala._

She froze, fear washing over her like a cold wave. Then just as quickly she sprung to life, eyes wide and alert in the darkness.

"Lee—we have to go back."

* * *

_**Oh no! What's up with Maala? What's going to happen next? And screw the existential differences—will those two just kiss and make up already?**_

_**Find out in the next installment of Cavepilots! Until then (and damn it feels nice to say this again)…**_

_**Take care and keep on healing. Love, Bee**_.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

"_Lee-we have to go back."_

Kara's words roused him from his bitter thoughts. "Are you insane? If this is about your frakking gods again—"

"No," she cut him off. "It's not—shit, will you just listen for a minute? It's about Maala."

"Maala," he repeated. "What about her? She's back in the village with the other children. She's safe."

"No—she's not."

Lee just looked at her.

"Nasr isn't the Chief's firstborn," Kara explained. "I mean he's the oldest, and he calls himself firstborn, but that's not quite true. The Chief had another son, Namun."

"Maala's father."

"Yes, Maala's father. A few years older than Nasr. He died before I came to the tribe, about a year before."

"In the fire? I remember you telling me that her parents died in a fire."

Kara nodded. "But Maala survived. And she's Namun's child so—"

"…So she also has a claim to the throne?"

"Exactly. As long as she lives, Nasr's authority could be challenged," Kara finished.

"But—how does that work anyway?" Lee asked. "Becoming Chief, I mean."

"Not much to it. Traditionally, it's the eldest male with noble blood. Doesn't have to be a male heir, but it usually is. After the old chief dies, a period of mourning is observed and then the new chief is appointed. It's subject to approval by the council of elders, but that's merely a formality."

"So why is having another member of the royal family a problem?"

"It usually isn't, but if anyone's not in favor of Nasr taking power, she could be used as an objection. Maybe not now, maybe not ever, but as long as Maala lives, she's a threat. And I know Nasr. He's not going to leave anything to chance. And besides—"

"Besides what?"

"He's threatened her before."

Lee tightened the grip on his spear. "When?"

"When I first brought you back to the tribe. He suspected there was some kind of connection between us and thought I was hiding something. He implied that something might … happen to Maala if I wasn't careful. And now that I see what his plan was," she concluded, "I don't think the fire—the one that killed her parents—was an accident either."

"No," Lee agreed. "He's been planning this for a long time now, just lining up all the pieces."

"And now there's only one thing left," Kara said grimly. She looked at him. "So..."

"So," he replied. "A rescue?"

"Yep."

"What's the plan?"

* * *

It was early morning by the time they got back to the village, the moon lately set and the sun not ready to rise. The faint glow of the torches in the square flickered in relief against the blackness of the morning, a few hundred meters away.

They had already circled the perimeter, stopping and watching at certain intervals to try and figure out where Maala was. Kara could see some of Nasr's troops patrolling the village; it looked as if he had declared martial law soon after he returned. Probably justified with some excuse about keeping the tribe safe, Kara thought bitterly. They had no idea what kind of viper was sitting in their midst.

Most of the activity was focused in the center of the village, and it was a safe guess that if Nasr was keeping Maala under guard, it would be there. She halted, crouching down in the tall grass near the cover of the trees and Lee followed suit. The village sat below them in the river valley while they were up higher at the edge of the forest in the surrounding hills.

"This is the place," Kara said quietly. It felt strange talking to him—the tension between them was still palpable, the air heavy with the harsh words they'd exchanged earlier. But that didn't matter right now.

"Look," she began, turning to look at him for the first time, "I know you don't believe in all this," she inclined her head toward the center of the village, "and I know you don't believe in me. But this isn't about us." She thought about Maala and felt her chest constrict.

"The only thing that matters now is getting her out of here. No matter what happens, we keep her safe. You understand?"

He gave her a strange look but nodded anyway. "Got it."

"All right," she said. "Let's go."

Kara carefully moved down the hillside and toward the square, trusting that Lee was following behind her as she picked her way carefully across the earth, trying not to make a sound. As they drew closer, she angled their approach so that they were inching along the walls of huts. Kara stopped as she saw a shadow cross the torches. Lee bumped into her and she stumbled forward slightly, but was halted by his hand coming up warm and steadying, fingers splayed lightly across her abdomen. She threw him a warning glance over her shoulder. There wasn't light enough to see his eyes, but she was confident that he got her point when his had dropped like a rock and he stepped back.

She let out a tense breath and turned her attention to the village square. Two of Nasr's men were standing nearby, talking softly.

". . . wrong? Why would we. . . child."

"Faith. . . stand your post."

". . . lost. . . my watch."

Kara was barely getting every other word, but it was enough to confirm that Nasr had Maala under his control and that these two, perhaps reluctantly, were guarding her.

A thumping sound broke up their conversation. Muffled, rhythmic, insistent. Coming from the long, low building that the village used to gather for ceremonies. Tomorrow, the Chief would be mourned there. Grief struck all over again but Kara ruthlessly pushed it down. There would be time for that later.

The taller man strode over to the building and rapped his fist against the wall and the thumping stopped. It had to be her. Lee's hand wrapped around her wrist in acknowledgement. She didn't have the strength or the inclination to pull away from his touch right then.

The sky was turning grey at the edges, and Kara knew that their window of opportunity was quickly disappearing. She glanced over her shoulder at Lee and he nodded. She nodded back at him.

Lee came up beside her, tense and alert, and she felt her own adrenaline kick up in response. Kara shifted forward to the balls of her feet, ready to spring, but held herself in check. She stared straight ahead at the two men between her and Maala and waited. As the guards began chatting idly again, backs to them, a movement in her peripheral vision brought her attention back to Lee. He pointed to himself and then to the guard on the left and then he pointed to and her and the guard on the right and she nodded when he brought a finger to his lips. They had to be fast and quiet or they'd bring the entire village down around them. He lifted three fingers. One. His ring finger disappeared. Two. Kara's heart beat ratcheted up to furious pace. Three. She leapt forward.

* * *

Lee was on his mark in seconds. He wrapped an arm around his throat and squeezed until the man lost consciousness. He whipped his head around to see Kara stepping away from the falling body of her own opponent.

They raced to the big building and Kara began working on the locking mechanism he had never quite gotten the hang of. The sky was growing brighter by the minute, and Lee pressed his lips tightly together to keep from muttering "come on, come on" to Kara as she fumbled. At last, the door swung open and Maala ran out, calling out to Kara happily and loudly.

Lee cursed and swung the child up and over his shoulder. "Shhhh," he whispered urgently, "Maala you have to be quiet." He glanced over at Kara and they began jogging quickly through the village, but stopped short when a pretty—and very surprised—young woman was suddenly in front of them, emerging from Nasr's hut.

She looked at them, then looked at Maala, then screamed at the top of her lungs. "Oracle! Silah!"

_Frak._

Lee gripped Maala tighter and broke into a flat-out run, pushing past the girl just as Nasr burst out of the door. Lee kept his eyes straight ahead, heading for the hills surrounding the village, angling for the cover of the trees. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs felt ready to give out, but there was no way he was stopping until they reached the forest. Vaguely his brain registered that Kara wasn't by his side anymore, but that thought was soon overcome by the need to escape.

He had to get Maala to safety. His body felt like it was on fire and he knew that exhaustion was imminent. It'd been a long twenty-four hours and he was not as young as he used to be, sacred warrior or not. Finally he reached the relative safety of the trees and slowed down to listen. There was still a general din coming from the village, but Lee could hear no pursuers. He came to a halt and put Maala down.

"Lee-" she began, but he put his hand over her mouth. He didn't have time to explain right now.

"We've got to stay quiet quiet," Lee whispered, removing his hand. When Maala opened her mouth to protest he repeated. "Please," he tried to smile. "Trust me."

The child nodded and Lee went back to listening and trying to catch his breath. Nothing. No rustling or footfalls. Nothing. Not that every single member of the tribe wasn't fully capable of being nearly silent, a lot more so than Lee and his trampling, but it didn't feel like anyone was out there either. There were no footsteps out there, no movement at all-only silence. The realization dawned on him slowly, as if he were wading through a deep fog.

Kara wasn't with them any longer.

Lee felt his heart drop through the floor. Before he could launch into a full blown panic, a familiar voice rang out.

"Silah! You forgot something."

* * *

Kara cursed her clumsiness. She'd been distracted by Sarina, trying to reach her before she was able to alert the rest of the village, but she lost focus for a second and lost her footing, tripping over a sharp rock and crashing into the outer wall of the nearest hut.

Her ankle throbbed, and she was pretty sure she had sprained it but she forced herself to go on, trying to make up the growing distance between her and Lee and Maala and follow them into the safety of the woods. But before she could take another step a hand grabbed her and pulled her sharply backwards. Off balance, she landed on the ground ass-first, and was scrambling to her feet when she found herself face-to-face the the business end of a spear.

"What have we here?"

Nasr's words were nearly drowned out by the increasing noise of the villagers as they stumbled out of their huts, waking up to the kidnapping of their princess and the capture of their disgraced oracle. Dawn was breaking, and the scene was rapidly descending into chaos. But Nasr's eyes never left hers. He looked almost pleased.

"Where did they go?" he asked simply.

She said nothing, just gave him a look she wished would kill him on the spot. If there was any justice in the world, it would have.

He just smiled. "Doesn't matter. I'll make them come to me."

Several of his soldiers came running up just then. "He ran into the forest! There's no telling how far he's gone by now but we can split up and track them by the river and the-"

Nasr silenced them with a wave of his hand. "No need," said calmly. "He's still out there. We have something he wants." He looked down at Kara and then turned toward the surrounding forest.

"Silah! You forgot something!"

At the sound of his voice, the villagers began to quiet, everyone trying to get a good view of the strange scene that was unfolding in the early morning light.

Nasr, cleared his throat, clearly relishing this. "We have lost our princess!" he cried out, and gasps and murmurs rippled through the gathering crowd. "She was stolen from us in the dark of night, brutally taken from her bed by the Silah who betrayed us-aided by this woman!" he pointed at Kara.

Another round of gasps and shouts erupted from the crowd, and even a few cries of disbelief.

"Silah!" Nasr called, this time addressing the trees in the distance. "I know you're still out there, and I know you can hear me." He grabbed Kara by the hair, all but dragging her across the ground to a spot where anyone looking out from the trees would see her. "If you wish to see your whore alive again, you'll bring back our Princess."

"Lee, don't you even think about it!" Kara yelled, slipping back into his language. "You take Maala and get the hell out-"

Her words were cut off by a sharp slap that sent her reeling. "Enough with your foreign curses!" Nasr barked. He turned back to the forest and continued in a calmer voice. "You know what you must do, Silah. If you want her back in one piece, then you make the exchange." He paused, letting the words sink in before delivering the last bit.

"You have three days."

* * *

_**Dun dun DUUUUUUUUUUUUN!**_

_**Five-alarm oh noes, y'all! Kara's been captured and Lee and kidlet are left in a seemingly no-win situation. WHATEVER WILL HAPPEN NOW?**_

_**(Now? It's going to get badass. And don't despair because the tale will end happily. That's a Bee!fic Guarantee right there.)**_

_**As always, take care and keep on healing.**_

_**Love,**_  
_**Bee **_:)


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Maala was exhausted. They had walked for hours, hurrying through the forest and away from the village, farther from home than she had ever been before. Just when she was sure she couldn't walk any more, Lee had picked her up and carried her, over hills and through valleys and deep into the forest until they reached a small cave where he said they could rest.

But Lee didn't rest. He didn't stay still at all—instead he paced back and forth near the entrance. He reminded Maala of the time they'd found a wounded lion near the goat pen, half-starved, with a large gash down its side. It had nearly killed itself trying to break open the gate, charging it again and again, but instead of getting inside it had only managed to skewer itself on the sharp sticks that made up the fence until finally it gotten pinned against them. It had looked so angry, just like Lee did now. And scared.

Maala was scared too.

"He's going to hurt her, isn't he?"

Lee stopped pacing.

"My uncle," she began again. "He's going to hurt her unless you take me back." She thought about Kara, about how kind and good she was and how much she loved her. "I don't want Kara to get hurt."

Lee looked like he was in pain. "I don't either," he said quietly.

"Then you should take me back," Maala continued, voice growing stronger. She didn't want to go—she hated her uncle—but she couldn't let Kara get hurt because of her. She straightened her small shoulders and held her chin high. "Lee, you need to take me back."

He looked at her with those strange blue eyes, so sad and tired that she wanted to give him a hug but she knew it wouldn't help. He just wanted Kara back. Lee knelt down in front of her and lightly held her shoulders.

"It wouldn't do any good," he said. "Your uncle won't keep his word. And you, Maala, are more important than me and Kara together. And Kara knows that too." His voice was strong, but he looked as if he were hurting inside, like some part of him was bleeding—some part that you couldn't see.

Maala frowned. "But we have to try and help her."

Lee stood and began pacing again. "I know," he said shortly, "but there's only one of me and your uncle has dozens of loyal soldiers. And even if I could kill them all I can't leave you unprotected." He crossed his arms, then winced as he touched a bandage near his shoulder. He took a moment to unwrap the black fabric before tossing it on the floor. It was covered with strange symbols. Maala stared at them long and hard.

"I've seen those before."

"Hmm?" Lee said absently, still inspecting the wound on his arm.

"I've seen those," she said again, pointing to the fabric. "The wali—my uncle's men, they were painting them."

Lee went very still. Arm forgotten, his eyes were fixed on her now. "When?" he asked.

"A few days ago. I was playing in the tall grass by the river, past the marshes and the reeds, in the place where no one ever goes. I know I wasn't supposed to be there, it's too far, but I wanted to see the gazelles come down to the river's edge. They do sometimes, at sunset." She looked up at him suddenly. "You don't think I'll get in trouble do you?"

Lee shook his head. "No, you won't get in trouble. But Maala, I need to know what you saw. Can you tell me?"

"It was a group of them, about six or seven. They had pieces of black cloth and they were painting those symbols on them. It was weird, because only the older women decorate the cloth. I mean sometimes the younger women do it too, but they aren't as good and it doesn't turn out as well and so most of the time they have to fix it and do it over—"

"Maala," Lee said, bringing her attention back to him. "Are you sure? About it being Nasr's men? You're sure you recognized them?"

"Oh yes. There was Anweh and Anuk and Sirai. And Kaleh who lives in the same settlement as Nela. And Hasmin, my uncle's good friend, he was there too."

Lee's face became very serious. "Did you tell anyone what you saw?"

She shook her head. "No. I forgot. Until I saw that," she pointed to the cloth. Lee looked very strange all of the sudden, like he was angry and excited all at once. Maala began to wonder if she had upset him.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No," he said. "Not at all. It's just—" he stood up and paced as he began to talk to himself. Maala could hear everything just something about "no proof" and "why would they believe us?" before he stopped short. He stood still for a long time and then turned to face her. His face didn't look sad or in pain anymore; instead he looked kind of happy. Almost.

Maala was getting worried. "What is it? Are you ill?" she asked, and Lee knelt down in front of her.

"No," he said, shaking his head. A smile began to spread across his face. "Exactly the opposite." He took her small hands in his. "Maala, I think you've just found a way to save Kara."

"I did?"

"Yes. But there's somewhere we need to go first."

"We do?"

He nodded slowly. "We need to pay a visit to the Northern tribes."

* * *

She'd been sitting in the dark for nearly a full day now, a windowless, empty room that allowed no outside light to come in. Her arms had been tied tightly behind her, wrapped around a large post the size of a tree trunk. The only thing that gave away her location was the handful of kernels that still remained on the floor, telling her that she was in the tribe's seasonal storehouse, soon to be filled with grain again in a few months when autumn was at its peak.

No one had come to see her, no one had brought food or water. No interrogations, no torture, no violence—nothing. The isolation was a way of getting her attention. An attempt to break her down, although she scarcely knew what for. But Nasr never did anything without a reason, and it was only a matter of time before he'd come to visit. With that being the inevitable alternative, Kara quite preferred the dark.

The activity outside was the only way to gauge the time. The sounds of the villagers beginning to move inside told her it was sunset, or close to it. The day was drawing to a close and soon night would fall. She thought about Lee and Maala and hoped they were far away by now, safe in the land of the northern tribes or maybe the southern desert plains—anywhere but here. She knew that Lee would get Maala to safety, she had no doubt of that, but she was worried what else he might do.

Sudden light spilled across the floor as Nasr stood silhouetted against the opened door. The fading light outside was soft, but it was still a harsh contrast to the pitch black she'd been sitting in and Kara had to fight the urge to close her eyes against it. Slowly they adjusted, and she could see Nasr coming inside, closing the door behind him and placing a small oil lamp on the floor at her feet. He sat down facing her.

"What?" she asked flatly.

"Just thought we could talk."

Kara blinked as her eyes became accustomed to the light. "What for?" she snapped. "You set the terms. Three days, remember?"

He chuckled. "You don't really believe that I'm going to allow that trade, do you?" He casually traced a finger down her cheek and then held it up to show her the dirt before wiping it off on his shirt. "Having them both them dead is so much simpler, you see? Much less room for error."

"Lee won't come back for me. He's too smart for that," Kara replied smugly.

"Is he?" Nasr mused. "Perhaps. In that case, I'll track them down. Makes no difference to me if I kill them here or elsewhere. But something tells me he's going to make the attempt. He's quite attached to you."

Kara winced at hearing the words spoken out loud. It was the same thing she'd been thinking about ever since she'd been captured. Her patience was wearing thin, and she was ready for this conversation to be over. "Then what's the point of all this? Why the charade?"

"Everyone loves a good story," he said mater-of-factly. "It's much easier to mourn a princess lost at the hands of a traitor than one who dies in a senseless accident."

Kara strained against her bonds, wishing to gods she had a weapon in her hand. "I figured as much. Any man that would kill his father has no honor. He's a—, a—" she stumbled over the words, unable to find one strong enough. Despair threatened to take hold but she shook it off and focused on anger instead.

"It doesn't have to end in bloodshed though," Nasr said, interrupting her thoughts with the measured calmness of his voice. "I'm not unreasonable."

"Just crazy," she snapped.

"Semantics," he waved her insult away without concern. "You say crazy, I say inspired. But you can still save him. I can be . . . persuaded."

Kara's stomach turned but she didn't break eye contact. "What about Maala? As long as she lives, she's a threat."

"My niece is a threat only as long as she remains my only heir." He smiled as he saw the realization flicker across her face.

"No."

"No? Such a small sacrifice. Think of the lives it would save."

She ignored the truth of his statement and kept her face impassive. "You want children?"

"I want security," he countered, "and besides, Oracle, as you well know, procreation is one of the gods' commandments." He smiled again, clearly mocking her.

"You don't believe in the gods," Kara said. Just like Lee. These men. Completely different, yet both thinking that sheer strength of will was enough. Thinking that they could control the future; that they could control fate.

Nasr shrugged. "We could rule this land, you and I. Build a new world."

"A new world built with the blood of your father?" she spat.

"Parents have to die," he said, standing up and walking idly around the empty storehouse. "It is the way of things. Besides, he lacked the vision and the will to do what is necessary."

"And you believe that you have that? The vision and the will?" Kara asked, trying to shift to get into a more comfortable position.

"I know it. Come now. No more running, Kara. Think of what we could do together." He grinned and tapped her on the knee lightly. "Think of it as penance for your sins."

Kara fought the urge to recoil. "So … you spare Lee and Maala and let me live if I go along with this—and all because you're madly in love with me?" she asked, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice.

He laughed in her face. "Yes," he said stretching his arms to their full length, displaying himself. "That's it. I'm madly in love with you." He dropped his arms, still shaking his head in amusement. "Don't flatter yourself. I make this offer because it suits my interests. A disgraced oracle you may be, but you're still the oracle, and the people would respond to that. It would be another way to secure my claim to the throne."

Kara opened her mouth but he talked right over her. "You can take my offer or leave it, I don't give a fuck. I could just as easily gut you from neck," he rested his finger lightly in the hollow of her throat, "to navel," he finished, drawing his finger down between her breasts to rest on her stomach. "And I will if you cross me. Make no mistake about that."

She seethed, but said nothing.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," he said affably, dusting his hands off and taking the lamp with him. "I'll see that you are brought some food and something to drink."

He paused at the door, opening it wide to reveal a dark blue sky full of evening stars. "Just remember one thing—if your silah does try to be the hero, there's only one way to save him. Good night, Kara."

The door swung shut behind him and she found herself alone with her thoughts in the dark.

* * *

Maala was an amazing kid, but even she didn't know the exact way to the Northern tribes. When Lee asked if she knew how to get there, she just looked at him a second before responding "…. well, they live in the _north_," as if that was all the direction they needed.

Turns out it was. They followed the river in that direction and before long, it quickly became apparent they were in the right place. Open fields turned into smaller villages which grew into a large settlement located in a valley tucked inside a sharp bend in the river.

Settlement wasn't even the right word, Lee thought. Or village. This place was a city.

It was vast and modern. Much more modern than anything Lee had seen since he'd been on this planet. They stood on the crest of a surrounding hillside for a long time, just taking in the long, straight roadways, the carefully built structures—not buildings in any advanced sense of the word, but some kind of plaster-like material that formed into solid walls and flat roofs.

There had to be at least five thousand people who lived here, he guessed, probably more. It wasn't large by any kind of twelve worlds' standard, but considering the primitive groups of humans Lee had encountered on his travels so far, this was entirely unexpected. Kara's adopted tribe wasn't exactly backwards, but this place was organized on a different scale altogether. It was stunning, and Lee couldn't help but think that it looked nothing like a culture built entirely around the business of war.

He felt a small hand slide into his as he looked down into the valley below. "It's so big," Maala whispered, clearly awed.

Lee squeezed her hand tight, not feeling much different. "It is," he replied.

They made their way into the city itself, down the smooth dirt roadways and toward a large building which stood high and imposing on a hilltop in the center. It had to be either a palace or at temple, and either way, they were sure to find an audience for what they had to say.

Before leaving on their trip, Lee and Maala had stopped in the woods to pick up what Lee had termed "a little bit of convincing." This bit had trailed behind them during the journey in a makeshift stretcher. If anyone noticed their strange parcel, they didn't mention it. At least, not until they reached the large city center and Lee untied the burlap wrapping, revealing what appeared to be the mangled body of Northern tribe warrior.

"Hold on, Kara," Lee murmured, praying this gamble would work. "Here goes nothing." He began walking forward, dragging the body behind him. A scream erupted, followed by several angry shouts and within two minutes, they were surrounded by a dozen very alive, very imposing looking warriors, spears drawn and daggers pointed.

He and Maala both held up their hands in unison. "Wait!" he cried. "We come in peace."

* * *

_**Holy smokes, Batman! These kids keep getting themselves into one scrape after another. Can Lee convince the Northern tribes to help them? Can Kara figure out an alternative to the Nasr Peace Plan? **__**Tune in for more just as soon as my little fingers can type it!**_

_**Got thoughts? I'd love to hear your feedback. **_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

They were inside the huge building that sat atop the hill in the center of the city, being led through one long corridor after another. Lee didn't really have a good feeling about this, but considering they had an armed escort of at least a dozen soldiers, there was no choice except to follow. Eventually the corridor opened up into a large room with two sets of massive double doors at the far end. One of the soldiers was talking to a guard nearby. Lee couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, but from the bits of conversation he could gather, it appeared that their language was very similar to that of Maala and Kara's tribe.

The guard seemed to be urging the soldiers to take them away, but something told Lee this was exactly where they needed to be.

"Wait!" he called out in the language of the tribe. "Please. We've come a long way to speak to the king. We bring him a message from the south."

The solider and the guard studied him suspiciously and turned back to their conversation. Finally, they broke apart and the solider motioned them forward.

"Come," he said, pointing to the large door in front of them.

The guard pushed it open, and Lee and Maala walked into a cavernous space, the ceiling at least thirty feet high, a series of large open windows on either side from which you could see the city stretching out below. The walls were painted from floor to ceiling with beautiful images and symbols, and a large chair sat on a dais at the far end. Everything in the northern territories was imposing and meant to impress—but this room was stunning on a whole different level.

The solider behind him jabbed his spear into the small of Lee's back. "Move," he barked.

Lee and Maala walked the long path to the dais while the soldiers walked on either side, two of them carrying the body of the warrior they'd brought with them. As they approached the far end of the room, Lee saw that the large chair was heavily carved and overlaid with gold. It was empty, but a man stood off to the side, in deep discussion with what looked to be several court officials. He was younger than Lee expected, no more than ten years older than himself, of medium height and stout build, dressed in a simple white tunic and wearing a strange, very tall headdress.

He looked up as they approached.

Suddenly, Lee found himself face to face with sharp edge of a spear, as two guards menacingly closed in on either side of him. Not knowing what else to do, he put his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"No," Maala whispered, reaching up to tug on his arm. "They want you to kneel."

He let her pull him down until they were kneeling in front of the throne, heads bowed, just waiting. Slowly, the guards with the spears backed off but remained close enough to strike if things got out of hand—or if the king didn't like what they had to say, Lee thought grimly.

The king was the first to speak. "My guards tell me you are from the south. Is this true?"

Lee nodded. "Yes."

He pointed to the body of the warrior lying next to them. "And you've brought this as a … gift perhaps?" His tone was sarcastic and just short of hostile.

"As part of a message," Lee answered carefully.

"A message," the king mused. "From the south?"

"Yes. We come from the land where the edge of the southern desert meets the great river valley. From the people who call themselves the Qena."

"The Qena, I see," the king said thoughtfully. He walked over to what looked like a pile of blankets at the edge of the dais. "Then can you explain this?" He lifted up the cloth to show the body of a man covered with arrow wounds, his white tunic stained red, eyes lifeless and glazed over. "First you murder my emissary, and now you bring me a dead solider?"

Lee's jaw dropped open. "I—I know nothing about that," he stammered.

"Then what do you want?" Faster than Lee thought possible, the king drew a sword from a nearby guard and pointed the blade right between his eyes. "Speak quickly, for your life may be measured in seconds."

Before Lee could answer, a small voice cried out behind him. "We need your help!"

The king looked down at little girl then back at Lee. "You bring a child to plead your case? Who is this?"

Maala pushed forward and faced the imposing-looking man. "I am Maala, daughter of Namun, granddaughter of Hamur, our Chief."

The king turned his attention to her, his expression surprised. "Are you now?" he asked. "Hamur is known for his wisdom. It is not like him to break our peace. But your tribe has brought war upon us. Why should I not run you through with my blade?"

Lee put himself in between Maala and the king, but she just took his hand and stepped around him, bringing Lee along with her.

"Because we didn't do this," she insisted. "Our tribe is in trouble and we need your help."

The king looked at Lee.

"It's true," Lee said. "We are not the enemy. Hamur is gone. Dead at the hands of his son, who has taken power over our village." He pointed to the dead emissary. "We had nothing to do with this man's death. But I know who did."

Sword still in hand, the king walked back to his throne and sat down. "Tell me," he said, fingers toying idly with the jeweled hilt.

Lee wasted no time, proceeding to tell the king everything that had happened from the day he had found Maala's tribe, focusing on the so-called skirmishes with the North and ending with the ambush Nasr had planned. With some prodding from Maala, he even included the bit about being the supposed holy warrior sent by the gods to aid their people.

The king listened attentively, and was silent for a long time after Lee had finished. He looked from Lee to Maala and then back again. "A strange pair you make. But what proof do you have that your words are true?"

"This." Lee pulled out the black strip of fabric that had covered his arm. "Thirty warriors wearing these bands attacked our people and killed our Chief. They were meant to look like yours, but I think you'll find that the symbols aren't an exact match. I also think that if you ask your Captain to identify the warrior we brought he won't be able to. This man was a mercenary, hired to ambush our people and give Nasr an excuse to take his father's throne and start a war."

With a snap of his fingers, the king summoned what looked to be a high-ranking warrior. He gestured to the body Lee and Maala had brought. "See if you know this man."

The warrior bowed and motioned the soldiers to bring the body and follow him. Lee watched as they left the room.

The king took the fabric from Lee and studied it. "_If _what you say is true, why should we help you? This is simply a matter of internal politics; it has nothing to do with us."

"Maybe not now, but it will. Once Nasr secures his claim as chief—once he is crowned, he's going to turn his ambitions to the North," Lee said.

The king merely shrugged. "We've defended ourselves from attack before, and no doubt we can do it again. So I ask—why should we interfere? What do we get in return?"

The king's words, his casual expression, even the lazy way he moved all reminded Lee of a lifetime ago when he'd visited the famous Picon gambling houses. It was the place where all the professional gamblers came to play triad, and Lee had gone there one weekend when he was a senior at the Academy with 2,000 cubits in his pocket and the kind of self-confidence that can only come from being 21 years old and not knowing any better. He'd thought himself a decent player, but after thirty minutes in a room with the pros he was 1,500 cubits in the hole and completely out of options. When those guys had a good hand, they'd bet the farm—and you'd either stay in or get the hell out. Lee didn't feel too different right now. The king was good and he wasn't going to back down until he got something really worthwhile out of the deal. Lee glanced down at Maala, hoping she'd forgive him one day. It was time to go all in.

"If Nasr is gone," he said, "this child is the only heir of Hamur. She will be Chief." Lee held the king's gaze. "What do you get, you ask? Gratitude. Gratitude of the Qena and the gratitude of their new chief."

The king cracked a faint smile. "And how would such … gratitude be shown?"

"Through an alliance," Lee said. "An end to the threat of war with the south and the strengthening of your borders." He pointed to the body of the emissary. "That's what you want isn't it? That's why you sent this man." Lee placed his hands on Maala's shoulders. "This child is the key to achieving that goal."

At that moment, the senior warrior returned to the throne room. He whispered something in the king's ear, and the king nodded.

"It seems you speak the truth," he said at last. "And you bring a tempting offer. But how do you propose to defeat Nasr?"

"I have an idea," Lee answered. "But we'll need some help."

"What kind of help?"

Lee thought for a long minute and then leaned forward. There really was no other way to say this. "I need to borrow an army."

* * *

Stuck in the dark for gods knew how long, Kara's thoughts were interrupted by a blinding light as the door of the storehouse opened again. Only this time it wasn't Nasr but a young woman. Sarina, Kara remembered, the one who'd screamed and got her captured in the first place. Great.

Sarina sat down a tray of food and stepped back, crossing her arms. "I'm going to untie your hands so you can eat, but there are two guards sitting outside that door. One word from me and they'll come with daggers drawn. Do we understand each other?"

Kara had to keep from rolling her eyes. "Sure."

With that, Sarina walked around behind Kara and began to untie the ropes that bound her hands together. Kara nearly cried out in relief at the sharp prickle and sting of the blood returning to her fingers. She opened and closed her hands, trying to restore the circulation, then made a beeline for the jug of water and the small loaf of bread on the tray.

"I don't know why he doesn't just kill you," Sarina said, walking back around to face her. "You're a curse to everything you touch. Look at the bloodshed you've brought down upon this tribe."

Kara stopped mid-bite and glared at the girl. She was in no mood to be lectured to by a teenager. "You're kidding, right? Are you blind or just plain stupid? You know exactly who's behind all this."

Sarina flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder and pretended to look offended. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please," Kara said. "You've been warming his bed for how long now? You know he wants power—and you know he'll stop at nothing to get it. Don't tell me you've never suspected something was wrong." She took a moment to study the girl, richly dressed with a finely woven tunic and bright copper bracelets, but with the faint outline of a bruise on her cheek. Suddenly all the anger was gone and Kara's heart simply ached for the girl. Her voice softened. "You know better than anyone else what he's capable of."

"Quiet!" Sarina hissed, although whether it was in fear or in agitation she couldn't tell. "How dare you speak of the new chief this way! Even a traitor should show some respect."

Kara ignored her words. "You think being with him gives you some kind of power. That it makes it worth everything you've been through. But you know better, Sarina."

"Shut up!" the girl cried out, angry and clearly unsettled.

Kara didn't respond immediately, taking time instead to stand and stretch her aching muscles. After a moment she took a step towards Sarina until they were face to face. "You won't agree with me, but you know I'm right. And since I know you're not stupid, it can only mean you're scared. And I don't blame you," Kara said quietly. "But remember that you always have a choice."

Sarina stepped away from her as if burned, backing towards the door. "You don't know anything, whore," she spat, but it looked more like she was trying to hold on to her composure than anything else. A last attempt to save face.

"Maybe not," Kara said evenly. "But remember—the gods will not forget those who side with the strong over the weak. Nor will they forgive those who side with the evil over the innocent. It's not too late, you know."

Sarina looked at her a moment longer, almost like she wanted to say something, but she turned towards the door instead, slamming it behind her.

* * *

Kara paced back and forth in the pitch black, thankful for the use of her legs even as her hands itched to tear the place apart. Two days had passed. Two days spent in the dark, her time measured only by Sarina's visits, bringing her sustenance but also compete and utter silence. She'd flat out refused to engage Kara in any conversation since their initial encounter.

Kara hadn't been able to get any sleep, hadn't been able to rest—hadn't been able to do anything except think about what she was going to do come tomorrow morning. She'd racked her brain for any possible plan—for any kind of solution that would allow her to escape the obvious. So far no luck.

Her options loomed like two doors standing in front of her. Walk through one and leave this world altogether. Choose the other and enter a kind of living hell. Either way, she had to protect Lee and Maala, and the best way to do that was to leave Lee with no alternative except to take Maala and go. To somehow take herself out of the equation.

The surest way to do this would be to take up Nasr on his offer. But she'd have to be very thorough in convincing Lee this was what she wanted. The thought alone made her stomach turn. The gods were beyond cruel sometimes. Kara knew they demanded sacrifice, but she couldn't decide which would be worse—running into the arms of death never knowing if her plan had worked or staying alive to make sure that it did.

She thought of Lee and of Maala—the idea of having to leave them stretched like an open wound across her chest, tearing her apart from the inside. The only thing stronger than the pain was a sense of powerlessness that bordered on despair. It was enough to drive one mad, and Kara had to keep from screaming out in frustration and rage. She feared that if she started she might never stop.

But what were her options, really? The ending was always the same. Death or Nasr. The sacrifice of life or the sacrifice of liberty. Either way she'd lose herself; the only difference was whether or not she would keep breathing.

She raked an unsteady hand through her hair. There wasn't any point in drawing this out. "Frak breathing," she muttered, reaching down to search for the rope that had bound her hands together. If it was long enough and if she could find a beam overhead—

Suddenly the door opened and two of the village elders walked through. Kara blinked rapidly in the bright light and dropped the rope she was holding. Short of Lee appearing out of thin air, this was the last thing she expected to see.

"We come here on behalf of the counsel," the eldest man, Kul, said brusquely. He set a lamp down and pointed to Kara. "Sit."

Remembering protocol, Kara obeyed and bowed her head. "Elders, you honor me with your presence."

"I wish we could say the same," the other man said grimly. He was Usur, and had been a good friend of the old chief for many years. He was ornery and uncompromising, but he was also fair. He didn't waste any time with small talk. "It's like the end of the godsdamned world. The Chief is dead, our Oracle charged with treason, our princess stolen—and the presumptive Chief sees fit not even give chase to her kidnapper! Just what the hell is going on?"

Kara had no interest in being yelled at or soothing concerns when she had too many of her own. "Why not ask the new chief?" she retorted.

"He is not the chief until we say he is the chief," Usur said sharply.

"No disrespect was intended," Kara said. She was struck by the unhappiness in the faces of the old men that seemed to reach beyond grief. They were confused and angry.

Kul laid a hand on Usur's shoulder. "Oracle, these are troubled times. We come to hear your side of the story."

Kara was struck momentarily speechless. It had never occurred to her that the Council would want to hear anything she would have to say, let alone still address her as Oracle. She launched into a quick recitation of the events that had occurred and the conclusions she and Lee had reached.

"And is what Nasr said true?" Usur asked, though not hostilely. "Have you defied the gods' will? Are you no longer pure?"

Kara hung her head, unable to meet the Elder's eyes and unable to lie. "It's true. I—" she paused, remembering Lee and their night together. And as much as she felt guilt for disobeying the gods' commandment, she no longer felt shame. Strangely, a part of her was glad it had happened. One brief moment of happiness amid so much darkness. "Yes," she finished. "It's true." She lifted her chin and held the gaze of the two men in front of her. "As true as it is that I slept with the Silah, it is just as true that Nasr arranged for the murder of his brother and father. I call upon the gods to strike me down if I do not speak the truth."

"A powerful oath," Kul said. "A powerful oath from an Oracle who admits to defying the will of the gods."

"But an Oracle nonetheless," Usur said and Kul inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You have given us much to think about."

Kara leaned back and rested her head against the pillar behind her, the words of the Elders echoing in her ears.

_...an Orcale nonetheless._

She repeated the phrase over and over again, an idea beginning to take hold. The Elders still considered her to be the Oracle. She still had some credibility in the eyes of the village, tainted though it was. Hell, even Nasr wanted her around to take advantage of her position. She was the Oracle, godsdamn it, and there was power in that.

The despair that had enveloped her lifted and Kara shook her head free of its cobwebs. She began to think beyond the penance she thought she deserved, beyond the tenants of sacrifice. The answer was clear and she laughed out loud. It was time to reclaim the reins of her destiny.

She strode over to the door and banged against it with her fist. "Tell that son of a four-headed demon you serve to come here," she yelled. "Tell him if he wants to rule this tribe, he's going to have to fight for it. Tell him the Oracle has invoked the _hom'daji_."

She leaned against the door and sent up a silent prayer. No turning back now, Kara thought. Win or lose, live or die, she was going to do it on her own terms.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Kara awoke to the sound of drums. The rhythmic, insistent beat of the ceremonial drums began just before first light, announcing to the village that it was time. Slowly, she got up and prepared for the day, taking care to lay out her weapons—one dagger for each thigh, a short sword at her waist, a spear for her right hand and a shield for her left. Even though she had done so several times the night before, she sharpened the blades again for good measure, doing her best to quiet her thoughts.

According to the legend of her people, the _hom'daji _was designed to reward the righteous and punish the wicked, but it wasn't like her hands were exactly clean. It was likely a suicide mission, and just as likely to backfire as to work. And she knew all of this—she'd gone over it in her head a hundred times now—but it didn't matter anymore. Because she wasn't going to go quietly and she wasn't going to be someone else's pawn.

If she had to die, she might as well go down fighting.

Weapons ready, she dressed, then turned her attention to her hair. She did her best to pull it back, but it was nearly waist-length and the leather ties she'd used to secure it kept coming undone. Frustrated, Kara finally grabbed a knife. "Frak this," she muttered, and sawed straight through the ponytail until all that was left was a short blunt cut she could tuck behind her ears. There were plenty of ways she could get killed today, but it wasn't going to be because of her godsdamn hair.

There was a knock on the door, followed by someone coming in. It was Sarina, who set down a wooden bowl filled to the brim. "The ceremonial paint," she explained without preamble.

Kara nodded in response, and began painting the traditional markings of the ritual—small red symbols on her forehead, chest, hands and feet. Finished, she handed the bowl back to the younger woman. They hadn't exactly been on speaking terms since their earlier conversation, and Kara wasn't going to waste time with small talk. Sarina turned back to the door, then hesitated. Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed Kara's hand.

"The dagger," she whispered urgently, leaning in close so the guards wouldn't hear. "The dagger he wears on his belt. The blade is covered in some kind of poison. I don't know what kind, but it's lethal."

Shocked, Kara pulled back to look at the girl. Sarina finally met her eyes and a world of meaning passed between them. "Thank you," Kara said. She gave the other woman's hand a tight squeeze.

Sarina squeezed back and nodded. "May the gods protect you."

Before Kara had a chance to say anything else, she was gone. She'd left the door open though, and it wasn't long before the guards outside were motioning to her.

"It's time," one said.

Kara just nodded. Time indeed.

They made their way out of the village to a nearby meadow at the base of the surrounding hills, the one usually reserved for festivals and celebrations. Today the entire tribe was there, assembled in a large circle. The ritual would take place in the middle, and Kara couldn't help but notice that Nasr had his _wali _forming the barrier between the ritual space and the people. Typical, she thought. Even before he'd shown up, it was clear he wasn't going to leave anything to chance.

Some of the villagers had noticed her arrival and began crowding around where she was—at least, as much as they could with Nasr's soldiers holding them back. Their faces weren't entirely hostile though, and this might be the only chance she'd get to make her case.

Kara held up her hands for them to quiet down. "My people, hear me," she said. "I know there have been many things said about me, many accusations made. But know this—I have not betrayed our tribe! I have asked for the _hom'daji_, the trial by combat. I say Nasr is not a worthy successor to our Chief, so let the gods decide. I say he is the traitor you seek and that he is the one who—"

"Silence!" Nasr's shout echoed into the nearby forest, and he quieted the crowd with a wave of his hand. He walked into the middle of the circle in full ceremonial dress, armed to the teeth. "It's bad enough the elders are requiring that we go through with this in the first place," he said, casting an angry glance in their direction. "I will not, on top of everything else, listen to the words of a liar and a whore."

There were murmurs of disapproval from the villagers, but any misgivings they had were quelled as soon as the _wali_drew their swords. Apparently there wasn't going to be an opportunity for her to make the formal charges and accusations. So be it, Kara thought. It wasn't like she was going to get a fair fight anyway.

Nasr motioned to the elders. "Get on with it," he snapped.

Kul, the council member who had visited with Usur the night before, stepped forward. "You all know why we are gathered here," he said to the crowd in a loud voice. "The Oracle has charged that our Chief's son is unfit to rule. The _hom'daji_has been invoked and now the gods must decide. Their battle will be waged by the two who stand before me. The Oracle has no champion, so she will fight on her own behalf. The warrior who falls shall be deemed by the gods as unworthy while the one who prevails shall be deemed righteous."

He now spoke directly to Kara and Nasr. "You may use only the weapons you've brought with you. No one may help you, and no one may intervene. Violate these rules and your life will be forfeit. The only victory can be through the death of the other, and this fight will continue until only one of you is left standing. Do you understand?"

They both nodded.

Kul motioned them each to opposite sides of the circle. "Go. Make your final preparations."

Kara walked over to her side. The drums began again, their low, steady rhythm vibrating the ground she stood on, drowning out everything else. She knelt down and picked up a handful of earth, running it through her fingers and repeated the ancient prayer. "God of the sun, goddess of the moon, have mercy on me, for I am but a blind mortal."

Closing her eyes, she blocked out all other thoughts, then stood and faced her enemy. The drums stopped.

Kara tightened the grip on her spear. To hunt with skill you needed three things: patience, agility, and timing. Patience to size up your prey. To study them, to search for a weakness. Agility in combat and agility in planning—the ability to change one's path in the blink of an eye—to adjust for changes in your opponent. And timing—knowing when to strike and when to hold back. Kara was an accomplished hunter, one of the tribe's best, but this was different. In this instance her 'prey' was sizing her up in the exact same manner. And he'd had far more experience.

Nasr began circling to the left and she followed suit, keeping a good twenty feet between them. He'd strike first with the spear and so would she. If either's aim was true, this would be a short trial by combat. If not, the fight would just be getting started.

Tired of waiting, she stopped, tossed her spear up in the air and caught it, holding it poised by her shoulder. Nasr stilled as well, waiting to see what she would do. Holding back a few seconds more, she drew back and released, sending the spear flying for what would a have been a perfect hit in the center of his chest—perfect if he hadn't stepped out of the way at the last possible moment.

So much for the quick ending. Now it was his turn.

He didn't waste time, throwing his spear almost as soon as she had finished releasing hers. She barely had time to recover, dropping into an awkward crouch to avoid getting hit right between the eyes.

He was faster then as well as stronger. Kara could only hope that she'd manage to stay alive long enough to find some kind—any kind—of advantage.

Nasr took a few steps closer, enough to close some of the distance between them, drawing his sword as he did. "You should have taken my offer," he said in a voice only she could hear. "You know you can't win."

Kara drew her own sword. "Maybe I just prefer death to your company," she said with a bitter smile. "Enough talk. Let's get this over with."

Amusement turned to fury in the blink of an eye. "Fine."

He moved impossibly fast, flipping his sword up before coming at her with a blistering sideswipe. Kara didn't have room to move out of the way; it was all she could do to hold up her shield and brace for the impact. She felt the blow all the way through her shoulder and up to the base of her neck.

Stumbling backwards, she struggled to regain her balance, fighting off two more thrusts and dodging another sideswipe before she had a chance to take her next breath. She was fast enough the stop most of the blows with her sword, parrying and sidestepping along the way, but every third or fourth hit she ended up taking on her shield, and already, her arms felt like they were starting to give out. On the fifth blow she felt the wooden barrier begin to crack under the stress. On the sixth, she pulled up too high, and the edge of the shield rammed into the side of her head, making her see stars.

_"What do you hear, Starbuck?"_

The voice echoed all around her. An old man's voice, pulling her towards the dark. Kara turned her head, dazed, eyes searching for the speaker.

"What? What did you call me?" she asked no one in particular, trying to find the source of that voice. It was so godsdamn familiar but she couldn't place it.

Nasr gave her a strange look and paused for a moment but was soon back on the offensive, cornering her into a defensive crouch. Another blow to the shield sent her reeling backwards this time, and the back of her skull made contact with the ground. Rolling away from Nasr's reach, she shook herself, trying to overcome the wave of nausea that accompanied the blow.

"_I thought you were dead."_  
_"Well, I thought you were in hack."_

This time the voice was Lee's, and she frantically searched the faces in the crowd. "Lee?" she called out. "Lee, where are you?"

"You bastard lover is gone," Nasr replied. Vaguely, she could hear the shouts of the villagers.

"She's mad!" someone cried.

"Possessed by the gods!" yelled someone else.

"By a demon," said another.

She shook her head to try and clear it. Focus, Kara. Focus on what's in front of you.

Hoping for surprise, she went on the attack, using every bit of skill she had to try and take the fight to Nasr. It worked—at least for the moment. He reacted a little too slowly, and it wasn't long before their swords locked together. He pushed away, but Kara managed to take his sword with her. Knowing she had the immediate advantage, he rammed into her, shield first, knocking her back with enough force so she lost her grip on both swords. Her head snapped back from the force of the impact.

"_You were raised by a woman who believed that suffering_  
_was good for the soul and so you suffered—"_

_"Interesting how you managed to break every finger on both hands,_  
_every break in the exact same place..."_

Suddenly she was standing on the edge of an precipice, two men flashing before her in rapid succession—one pale with lifeless eyes and a cruel smile, the other one dark skinned and hovering just above her bedside.

"No!" she yelled, waving her hands wildly in front of her. "Shut up—just shut up!"

Nasr stood stock still, giving her a skeptical look. The noise from the crowd began to get louder until he motioned them_wali_to press back the people, swords drawn.

"The gods are speaking through her!"

"She's losing her mind—a punishment for her sins!"

The shadows receded just enough for Kara to focus on the man in front of her. She drew her dagger and so did he. Not the one on his belt—the poisoned one—but one made to fit into the hollow of his shield.

They charged each other at the same time.

The next few seconds were a blur of movement—swinging, dodging, advancing, retreating. It was all she could do to keep up. She managed to escape two swings of his shield but she caught the third one squarely in the chest. Darkness temporarily filled her vision and the strange voices grew louder, echoing from every direction, as if she'd fallen into a deep well.

"_Zak failed basic flight..."_

_"Our people are still there, on Caprica. We've got to go back for them."_

_"You are fine—you are just fine with the dead guys. It's the living ones you can't deal with."_

Retreating, Kara raked a hand across her face, scratching hard enough to sting, even as she she her best to back up. She shook her head, trying desperately to clear it, but she felt like she was slipping away. She came to her senses just in time to escape what would have been a crippling blow to her left hip and dropped to the ground, trying to roll out of the way. Pulling herself upright, Kara assumed a fighting stance once more, just in time for another attack.

Nasr spared nothing this time, using fists, elbows and the edge of his shield to inflict damage. Ducking to avoid his knife, his fist made contact with the side of her forehead and sent her spinning backwards. Suddenly the daylight turned dark and she was in a boxing ring, surrounded by familiar faces, wrapped in Lee's arms, his blood streaked across her face, mixing with her own.

The void opened up again, threatening to swallow her whole. She tried to get away from it, but the edges reached out and began to pull her inside.

"_I love Kara Thrace!"_

_"Can you believe it? She comes down, she wakes me up, she pops the question,_  
_drags me down to the priest and bang—like that, we're married."_

_"I missed you."_  
_"I missed you too."_

She blinked again and it was daylight. Lee's face faded away, and the blood on her face was entirely her own, coming from a gash above her right eye. Nasr was still several yards away so it must have only been a few seconds.

Seconds or hours though, it didn't make any difference—she was still completely disoriented. To make matters worse, it was slowing her reaction time. Her limbs felt like she was trying to run through honey, and her reflexes were fading. Nasr came at her like a man possessed, striking alternately with blade and fists. She kept the knife at bay for the most part, managing to deflect a lunge for her heart into a cut down her shoulder and one aimed at her throat into a slice across her back. They weren't critical wounds but they were deep enough. She was losing blood, and starting to lose ground as well. With a well-timed swing of his shield he knocked the dagger out of her hands, sending it skittering away into the crowd. She drew her last knife and tried to take a defensive crouch but he circled back and struck with another swing of his shield that sent her knife flying in one direction and her in the other.

The impact felt like slamming into a stone wall, and she could barely scrape together a breath. She managed to move away from the arc of his blade as her furiously swiped at her, but she knew it wasn't long. The blows stopped for the moment, and she did her best to crawl away. She heard Nasr's voice in the background, speaking to the crowd and taunting her, but she couldn't make out the words. Again, the darkness loomed before her, and the visions began to flood her mind.

"_I made a vow in the sight of the gods and I'm not going to break that."_  
_"You're breaking it every time we do this. Every time."_

_"I guess we are right back where we started."_

_"I don't trust myself."_  
_"So trust me."_

Just as quickly as they came, the voices vanished, and the shadows retreated enough to be able to tell that Nasr was still speaking to the crowd.

"And _this_ is who you'd put your faith in?" he said, pointing at Kara. "_This _is who you'd believe over me?"

He turned on her then, and she managed to get up just in time. He lunged again, blade swinging wide. She jumped back as best she could, crashing into a wall of shields behind her, into the _wali_who lined the circle. They pushed her back into the center and she staggered forward, barely keeping her balance.

Nasr looked down at his knife and then tossed it aside. "Look how she runs away! I've no need of a weapon to claim the victory."

He walked toward her, then kicked her shield away. He was just toying with her at this point. He could finish her off at any time, but he seemed determined to draw it out as long as possible.

He circled her slowly and spoke in a voice the crowd couldn't hear. "You know, I dreamt about having you for so long. Years in fact. I was so obsessed with the idea I never considered any other possibility. But I think now I've changed my mind, Kara. After all the trouble you've been, I'm honestly going to enjoy killing you more."

"Then I wish you'd get on with it," she croaked, cringing under the effort it took to wipe the blood out of her eyes. "I hate bad frakking speeches."

His face darkened, and a second later was landing blow after blow, attempting to tear her apart with his bare hands. Just when she thought it would never stop, a well-placed kick to her sternum sent her crashing to the ground. Her head connected with something hard and a light—brighter than anything she could possibly imagine—flashed in front of her eyes.

"_Aurora—brings the morning and a fair wind. A fresh start."_

_"See? There's nothing so terrible about death... You're free now, to become who you really are."_

_"Godsdammit Kara, you come back. Come back!"_  
_"It's okay. Just let me go. They're waiting for me."_

And just like that, it was there. All of it. Every single godsdamn detail. Uploaded in an instant like some frakking cylon software. Her mind reeled and the ground beneath her seemed to spin. The emptiness was gone, and the darkness erased—the storm had passed but she remained.

It was her. Just her. Kara. Starbuck. Captain Thrace. You-may-refer-to-me-as-God, world class frak-up, best shot in or out of the cockpit—daughter, lover, friend.

In the blink of an eye it was back. She was back.

Slowly, she got to her feet, picking up a knife that was lying nearby as she did. She looked at Nasr and smiled. No, not smiled—grinned. A trademark, scourge-of-the-cylon-raider, three-on-a-run shit eating grin that any crew member on Galactica would have known to get away from right frakking now. Nasr just raised a quizzical brow.

"Feeling good?" he said sarcastically.

She kept grinning. "You have no idea."

Kara felt the knife in her hand like a perfect extension of her arm. She knew exactly what came next. It wasn't even thinking—it was pure instinct.

Adrenaline kicked in and she felt almost giddy. The pain was still there but it didn't register anymore. She moved with it and through it; arms and legs and breath and sight in perfect concert. She hadn't felt this alive in ages.

Nasr charged with a predictable right hook, but she feinted to the left and easily blocked his next hit. Then it was her turn. He was still stronger, but she was quicker to react. Faster by far, and with better instincts. She kept her moves short and tight and landed one blow to the chest, then another to the kidney. He ducked a swing of her blade but it gave her just enough of an opening to throw a well-timed punch. She gave it all she had, catching him on the jaw and sending him reeling backwards. Staggering, he fought to keep his balance, hand coming up to catch the blood running from his lip.

He looked stunned and bewildered and—there it was. Just the tiniest bit afraid.

Kara smiled again.

She got in a few more blows but didn't escape completely. He landed a few punches of his own, including one aimed at her wounded shoulder, expanding the cut on her arm in the process. She fought back and managed a slice across his chest; not deep by any means but enough to draw blood. He scampered backwards, searching for a weapon. She closed the distance between them and managed to land a few more hits, but he countered by taking out her feet with a swipe of his leg.

They rolled across the ground, struggling for control of her knife. Just when he nearly had her pinned, Kara slid out from underneath him and wrestled her blade free, stabbing it into his thigh and twisting hard. Nasr howled in pain and pushed her away, pulling the knife out of his leg with a string of violent curses. Blade in hand and still on his knees he lunged toward Kara, angling for her throat. Scrambling backwards, she had just enough time to roll away and grab the nearest weapon, which happened to be her sword.

Pivoting onto her feet, she stopped Nasr in his tracks, the point of her blade now inches from his throat.

"Yield," she said.

Nasr looked her blade, then at his, calculating the distance between them to see if he had a chance of striking back. Realizing he was cornered, the look on his face changed to panic, and he held out his hands to the side, glancing toward his men.

"Attack!" he screamed.

All at once every sword was drawn and pointed at her. She heard the angry shouts of the people, the cries from the elders that Nasr had breached the rules of the _hom'daji_, but it didn't matter. Because he still had the numbers and he still had the power, coward that he was. He'd rigged this fight from the start. And after everything that had happened she was still going to lose.

Just her bad frakking luck.

She closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer, hoping it would be fast. If she moved quick enough, she might be able to take Nasr with her. She took a deep breath and prepared to strike, the voices from the present and the past fading away until only one was left.

"_Stand down!_"

Kara's eyes shot open. That voice was ice-cold and filled with rage and way too real. She looked around at the same time as everyone else, trying to find the speaker.

Then she saw him. Sword drawn, spear raised, surrounded by soldiers and the fury of the gods themselves written all over his face. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

Lee's voice was frighteningly calm, echoing across the circle. "Raise those swords one more inch, and it will be last move you ever make. I've got three hundred warriors surrounding this place, so here's what going to happen. The _wali_ will back down and move outside the circle. The Oracle and the people will remain unharmed, and this charade will be over. Lay down your weapons. _Now._"

The _wali _obeyed, dropping their swords where they stood and backing away.

Realizing the odds were rapidly shifting out of his favor, Nasr dropped his own knife and waved his hands frantically. "Wait—stop! It's a trap! Look at who he's brought with him—these are our enemies! This isn't a rescue—the Silah seeks to conquer this village!"

The villagers became uneasy and everyone turned to look at Lee. The crowd parted as he walked into the center of the circle and made his way over to Kara.

"Took you long enough," she muttered. "You nearly missed all the fun."

Lee cracked a bit of a smile. "Sorry," he murmured. "Had a helluva commute." He looked at her, face becoming serious, studying each cut and bruise. "You okay?" he asked gently, reaching out to take her hand in his.

She gave his hand a squeeze. "I am now." She broke away from his gaze and anxiously searched the crowd. "Maala?"

"She's safe."

Kara nodded and looked around at the villagers—every eye was fixed on the Silah and awaiting an explanation. "Looks like you're on," she said.

Lee stepped forward and spoke up. "This is no trap, and I have no ambitions of conquering anyone—unlike some people," he said, giving Nasr a look of disgust. "I asked the Northern tribes for help, to remove a serpent from our midst. They come in peace and friendship. They were not responsible for the ambush that killed our people and our Chief, but this man was," he pointed to Nasr. "He, along with his guards, orchestrated the entire thing. He wanted power from his father and took it under the guise of war with the North."

"It looks like that war is already upon us," Usur said irritably, motioning to the soldiers that surrounded them.

Lee shook his head. "No—not at all. I bring an emissary sent by the king himself. He wishes to speak with the council, to seek an alliance that will strengthen our borders and avoid future bloodshed."

"And what does the Oracle say?" Kul asked.

"He speaks the truth," Kara answered. "The Silah did not betray us, and neither did I. We were trying to stop Nasr, to keep him from taking his father's throne."

The elders spoke among themselves for a moment, nodding to each other.

"You can't be serious!" Nasr shouted, feeling the elders and the crowd starting to turn against him. "You believe them?"

Usur turned to Lee. "We will speak with this emissary. Go, take the Chief's son to await further questioning."

Lee nodded and motioned for the Northern warriors to comply. Slowly, the crowd began to disperse. Kara let out a breath she hadn't realized she been holding. She felt a little lightheaded and looked down at the jagged cut on her arm. It's was deeper than she'd thought and she was still losing blood. Before she could do anything else she found herself in Lee's arms, wrapped in a tight embrace. She winced a bit where he was pressed against her shoulder, and he drew back at once.

"Oh gods—sorry," he stammered. "I just—" he faltered and reached up to cup her cheek. "I thought I'd lost you."

"It's okay," she said, leaning into his touch. "It's okay." She was starting to sway on her feet, but there was no way she was going anywhere right now. Suddenly the events of the fight came back to her and she couldn't wait any longer to tell him. "Lee I—"

She caught a movement over his shoulder and turned just in time to see Nasr wrestle out of the soldiers' grasp. Drawing a knife from his belt—the poisoned one that had been forgotten in the chaos—he charged towards Lee. He wasn't close enough to inflict a serious wound, but he was close enough to make contact, and that was all he needed.

The next few seconds felt like an eternity. She drew her sword, pushed Lee out of the way, and lunged toward Nasr. Her aim was precise and efficient and she separated his head from his body in one clean stroke. His body fell to the ground and Kara kicked the poisoned blade out of the hand that still clutched it. Letting out a vengeful scream, she raised the sword and sank it into his heart, pinning the corpse to the ground and burying the blade nearly to the hilt.

As she got up, the ground began to sway beneath her. Her vision was getting spotty—she must have lost more blood than she thought. She stumbled but Lee was there, catching her and easing her down to the ground. His face hovered over her, but the edges were starting to blur. Faintly she heard his voice.

"Kara? Kara! Stay with me okay?..."

The light was getting dim, but she had to tell him. She had to get the words out, and he needed to hear them. She took one more breath, expending an impossible amount of energy.

"I remember," she said, reaching up to try and touch him. "Lee—I remember everything."

The world faded to black.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

_1 year later._

She still prayed. Every morning and every evening. If someone had asked her why she wouldn't have been able to explain it. It's just what she did. The gods had been cruel and kind in equal measure, but they had always been there. They were a part of her, and she was a part of them. Walking away from that would have been like cutting off a piece of herself.

The oldest habits were always the hardest to break.

Kara stood and stretched, trying to undo the series of knots in her back. It had been a long day. A day of ritual, and a day of remembrance. It had been a year since their beloved Chief's death, a year since their warriors were lost in senseless bloodshed and the future of their tribe was nearly lost as well. And while she of all people knew better than to dwell on the past, there were some things that should be done. A prayer for the dead. A song to carry into the afterlife. An incantation to the soul to find its way home.

She walked to the far end of the temple, past the incense stands and over to the main altar. The Chief's memorial was there, a mound of earth covered in flowers, symbolizing his death. Four ornate jars had been placed in front, each representing the four pillars of life: strength, justice, honor and truth. She lit a lamp in front of each one, repeating the ritual prayers that connected this life to to the one beyond. A prayer for peace, for a safe journey to wherever to soul would go next. Also a prayer that some small piece of the departed's spirit would remain behind, giving guidance and comfort when needed.

Her task complete, she made sure the temple fires were well stocked. They stood at either end of the large chamber, the flames held in wide, shallow stone basins. They would burn until morning, keeping watch over the dead.

Walking past the statues of the gods, past the paintings and symbols on the walls, she went over to a small space in the corner. Her private space. It wasn't anything special, just a table that held a myriad of small clay lamps on shelves of varying heights. It's didn't do to dwell on the past, but it didn't mean you forgot it either. Some things were worth remembering. Worth honoring. Kara Thrace still said her prayers.

And there were so many. So many they had lost along the way. So many who never made it. Both in this life and the one before. She lit a lamp for each of them. For Anai' the old oracle. For Kul, whom they'd lost only a few months ago. For those lost long before. For Sam. For Dee. For Laura and the Old Man.

She prayed for the living too. For Helo and Sharon and Hera. For the Chief and Tigh and even Ellen. For friends and comrades. It wasn't likely she'd see them again—Earth was a big damn place—but she remembered them just the same. Thought of them fondly and wished them happiness.

_A prayer for the dead, a song for the living; _  
_Thoughts of those we see no longer. _  
_Blessings for those who remain but are far away._

_And a prayer for those who are with us still._

She turned to the last two lamps. Placed further back and higher up than any of the others, a larger one and a smaller one. Kara lighted them both.

The gods had been cruel and kind in equal measure, but somehow the kindness was sweeter because of all that came before it. She stared at the last two lamps burning bright and strong, and her eyes stung a bit. Emotion had never been her strong suit, but some days she just couldn't escape it. And today had been a really long day.

Standing back and looking at the small blaze of lights before her she wondered—if someone were to place one there for her, where would they put it? With the living? The dead? With those no longer seen?

Frak if she knew. It wasn't something she let herself think about, but sometimes she couldn't chase the demons away. There was peace now, and there was happiness, but the questions remained. Like why there were memories of things she never did. How she remained connected to a part of herself—a part that continued on, that guided her people to this planet—while she had been here the whole time.

She had died. She had gone ahead and she had stayed behind. And now she was here. If she thought about it too long, she'd go insane.

So she didn't. She didn't talk about it either, even when Lee tried to bring it up, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. It hovered around the edges like a shadow. It waited. She'd gotten so good at pushing it down that most of the time it would hardly register, at least not consciously, but its presence lingered just the same.

"What are you still doing here?"

Sarina's voice brought her back to the present. The younger woman was dressed in white, just as Kara was, and carried an armful of flowers to the altar. She began removing the old blooms from the day before and replaced them with fresh ones.

"You've been up since before first light," she chided. "I thought you were going home."

Kara just shook her head. "I was going to stay anyway. The assembly isn't over till tomorrow, so it's not like I have somewhere to be."

Finished arranging the altar, Sarina put her hands on her hips and gave Kara a stern look. Kara couldn't help but smile. She'd come so far. The angry, damaged girl she once knew was transformed. Strength had replaced fear, and she carried with her a look that was far wiser than her eighteen years. She'd seen too much in her young life, but she'd come out the other side stronger for it. She'd been working with Kara in the temple for months now, helping oversee the completion of the new building and learning all the rituals until she knew them better than Kara did herself. There was no doubt about it—she was going to make a formidable oracle someday.

"I'll take the night vigil," Sarina said. "You get some rest. Besides..."

"Besides what?"

"The council came back early. Well, one did at least." Sarina gave her a sidelong glance.

Kara paused mid-thought and turned to look at the younger woman. "Really?"

Sarina smiled. "Yep."

"Just now?"

"Not two hours ago."

Kara looked at the altar, then over to the doors leading outside, then back again. "But—are you sure? I could stay until—"

"_GO_," Sarina said, taking Kara by the arm and practically pushing her out the door. "I'll be fine. You have somewhere you need to be."

Kara smiled and covered the younger woman's hand with her own. "Thanks."

Stopping only to put away the oil she'd been carrying, she hurried outside. The sun was fading, and the heat of the day was giving way to a clear, cool breeze. She walked out the wide double doors and into the courtyard. The temple was a recent addition—the limestone blocks that made up its walls coming from a quarry down the river and the design courtesy of their northern friends, who had quite a good handle on architecture and construction. Strategic alliances definitely had their upside.

The temple was just the beginning. A host of new buildings were going up, and already the size of the village seemed to have doubled overnight. The marketplace had been expanded to accommodate for increased trade, and ground had just been broken for what would become a house of the dead.

So many changes. It was hard to believe this was the same place she'd come to just three years ago.

And it didn't stop there. The council had been away trying to broker a deal with two more tribes—their southernmost neighbors along the river. Kara had only missed the assembly because it was at the same time as the memorial ceremonies in the temple. But she really didn't mind. She could only listen to so many speeches from long-winded old men before she went looking for sharp objects, even if she wasn't necessarily opposed to the results. The tide of war had turned into peace and prosperity, bringing with it a brave new world.

A world that wouldn't wait for them to catch up, a familiar voice echoed. A world they had to shape themselves.

Just the thought of him made her heart beat a little faster, even as she chided herself for being such a damn girl about it. But still. It had been a week and she'd missed him like hell. Missed both of them. She couldn't wait to get home.

So much had changed. Just one year, but everything was different. The Silah had turned statesman, and the Oracle had become their priestess. Well, priestess and full-time military advisor. She was fine communing with the gods, but she couldn't entirely walk away from her former life. There was a part of her that would always be a warrior; that's just who she was. Altar lamp in one hand and sword in the other. But there were a few conditions to staying on as the tribe's spiritual leader. For one thing, no more visions. No more prophecies or second sight. Kara was more than happy to leave that to others.

Oh, and no more celibacy. That was a big one too.

She made her way out of the city and up the well-worn path that led into the forest. There was a royal house being built, but Kara didn't want to move. Not yet. There was still something to be said for solitude. You never really understood things until you were able to separate yourself from them. So she'd kept her primitive little cave. Of course, the council had insisted that a guard house be built at the base of the hill, and that was fine. Completely unnecessary, but fine. Whatever made them feel better.

The tribe was ruled by the council of elders for now—at least, until Maala was ready to assume the full responsibilities of leadership. Until then, Lee and Kara had been given seats on the council to act in her place. They'd been offered permanent seats as well, but Kara wanted no part of that. She'd help out as long as they needed her to, but that was it. She felt ancient, so much older than her twenty-nine years, and she was ready for a break.

At last, she reached the ledge near the top of the hill and stepped through doorway to the right of it. At the council's urging, her cave had been made larger and there were now four rooms instead of just two, each connected by a main hallway. All was quiet at the moment, and at first glance it didn't appear any different from the way she'd left things that morning. But after a closer look she saw the subtle hints—a pile of scrolls in the corner, a familiar ragdoll in the doorway along with a child-sized sword and a few other toys scattered here and there. She heard faint sounds coming from the furthest room, but she knew if she went back there right now she'd undo at least an hour's worth of coaxing, compromise and negotiations. So instead she poured herself a drink and sat down at the mouth of the cave to watch the sunset, just waiting.

After about ten minutes she heard a soft thud followed by a muffled curse. She saw him before he saw her and suppressed a laugh at the fearsome Silah—defender of the Qena and voice of the council itself—doing his best to back down the hall as quietly as possible while dodging toys that littered the floor. The tiny copper cymbals that had been left in the doorway were nearly his undoing, but he caught himself at the last minute, pivoting out of the way just in time. Bracing against a nearby ledge, he regained his balance and made it back to his feet. That's when he saw her.

The exhausted expression he wore transformed itself into a smile that made her stomach flip. Kara was the first to speak.

"Hey you."

"Hey."

"Good trip?"

"Good to be back." Without further discussion, he closed the distance between them and leaned down for a very long, very thorough kiss that left her breathless and a little lightheaded. He sat down next to her.

"Nice to see you too," she quipped. "And how is our fearless leader this evening?"

Lee let out a long sigh. "The Chief is in bed. Took three stories and two cups of water, but she's down. We've been traveling all day and she still manages to have the energy of an entire squadron of nuggets. I don't know how she does it."

"She's a talented kid. You look like you could use a drink too."

He looked down at the cup she was holding. "Please tell me that's not water."

Kara just grinned and handed it to him. He downed it in one gulp.

"How'd she do?"

"She was great. Listened to an entire day of speeches without falling asleep—which is more than I can say for me—and she kept correcting Usur on his numbers for this year's grain harvest."

"I bet he loved that."

"What can I say? She's a stickler for details."

"Kind of like someone else I know."

Lee shrugged and just gave her that smug look that was half-challenge, half-invitation. Made her want to drag him into the nearby woods and frak him senseless. But for the moment she resisted, because once they got started there wouldn't be any more talking for a while. Instead Kara poured herself another drink.

"How was the council?" she asked.

He reached over and poured a second cup as well. "Pretty good. The talks are progressing nicely, but the elders are as resistant to change as ever. The Qena have lived for centuries isolated from the other tribes along the river, content to sit tucked away in their own little corner. But the world is moving fast—and we can either shape the future or be left in its wake. That's what I keep trying to tell them. That the only way forward is through negotiation and alliance."

"Or just having a big enough damn army so everyone will leave us alone."

"You sound like the king."

"He stopped by? How is my old drinking buddy?"

Lee let out a long-suffering sigh. Kara and the king had hit it off at the high council meeting of allied tribes last year, as she was one of the few people around who could keep up with him when pomegranate wine was involved. The king had been smitten with her ever since.

"He's fine. Asked about you. Keeps mentioning something about being in the market for a third wife."

"Third wife, huh? What girl could possibly resist?"

Lee just glowered.

"Oh come on! You know he likes to wind you up."

He rolled his eyes. "Yet another thing you two have in common."

Kara laughed. "Hell, it's practically a national sport. But seriously, did you come to a decision on the southern tribes?"

"They want a military strategy meeting first. They think we need to build up the allied guard in case the negotiations break down."

Kara nudged his shoulder. "They're not wrong, you know. It's a good idea."

"It's completely unnecessary. I can get them to come around."

"Well just in case, I know I'd feel better if we had a big frakking stick to back up all that peace and democracy talk."

"Empire-builder," he muttered.

"Liberator of the people," she smirked.

He grinned, and she grinned back. Several years and a lifetime later, he was still the same. His skin had taken on a permanent coppery color from too much time spent in the sun, and there were a few more wrinkles around his eyes these days, but his smile was exactly the same as it had been the very first day she met him. And those eyes... they were the same too. Same now, same then when she opened her apartment door on Caprica ages ago, the same from her dreams. _Her dreams._The thoughts from the temple started coming back and she couldn't seem to shake them.

Lee sensed the shift. "You seem … distant all of the sudden. Everything okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Fine."

He just gave her that infinitely patient, infinitely intense look he used when he knew she had more to say but didn't want to say it. Drove her up the wall but only because she knew he was usually right. Best to just get it out there. She took a deep breath.

"I was just thinking about …" she waved a hand around her, "about all this. It's good—it's more than good—but I still don't have any answers. No reason, no explanation. And no guarantee it won't happen again." Kara clenched her fists and stared into the distance. "And I can't help but think—what if it does? What if I'm whisked off on some divine mission? What if I can't stay?" She exhaled, and the weight that had been pressing down seem to lift a little just by saying the words out loud.

"You're about talking religion," Lee said.

"I'm talking about things we can't control."

He reached for her hand. "But you always have a choice. You know that, right?"

She gave his hand a squeeze back, but it didn't make the fear go away. The words had been dying to escape for the better part of a year, so she finally let them.

"But what if-," she began and then stopped herself. "What if I don't? What if I … have to leave all this? Leave our people, leave Maala, leave everything we've worked so hard for? What if I have to—" her voice gave out, and she couldn't bring herself to say the rest.

_Leave you_. The words lay unspoken between them.

Lee sat there, staring out into the last rays of the setting sun. He stayed that way, motionless and silent, for a very long time.

"Then I'll find you," he said.

Kara looked over at him, not sure how to respond. Lee met her gaze and held it, and everything around them seemed to stop.

"I'll find you," he repeated, the words barely whisper this time, his eyes locked on hers. It wasn't a wish or a desire, just a pure statement of fact.

Kara looked at him long and hard, and all she saw was unwavering certainty. And love. She liked to give him a hard time about his lack of religion, but all these years his faith had never really wavered. It just wasn't faith in the gods. Despite everything, he still believed in her.

He believed in her. Maybe it was time she did as well.

Touched in a way she couldn't even begin to describe, she brought her hands up to his face and pressed their lips together in a kiss that was almost chaste. But this was them and one kiss just wouldn't do and it wasn't long before there was another and then another after that, and soon everything else melted away until all that was left was the feel of his mouth against hers, the rhythm of his breathing, the beat of his heart.

Their kiss deepened and lasted long enough for Kara regain a bit of composure. She nipped along the edge of his jaw and traced her lips down to the corner of his ear.

"Not if I find you first," she whispered, giving his earlobe a playful bite. With her face pressed against his, Kara felt rather than saw his answering smile. "But. Until then..." she pulled back.

"Until then?" he repeated.

"I guess we're stuck with each other."

He gave her a brilliant, blinding smile. "I guess so." He leaned in. "Nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Nowhere?" Kara asked innocently, running her hands up his arms at the same time her lips wandered down the column of his throat. "Absolutely nowhere else at all?"

She felt his hands trace the curve of her waist and settle on her hips, pulling her closer. "Well," he mused, "maybe a couple of places."

She didn't need any more encouragement than that. Kara practically climbed into his lap, kissing him for all she was worth. When they were both breathless she stopped abruptly and sat up.

"Hey wait-" Lee protested, reaching out to pull her back into his arms. "What are you..."

His voice trailed off as he watched her stand up and slip off the long ceremonial robe she'd been wearing, until she was down to the thin white tunic she wore underneath. She took off one doeskin shoe and then then other, and began walking away from the entrance to the cave, toward the line of trees in the distance. She looked back at him.

Lee's eyes darkened and once again that impossibly smug, impossibly hot expression was back. He glanced down at the base of the hill. "Should I call the babysitter?"

* * *

Kara didn't answer him, just began making her way into the forest, shedding clothes as she went. Lee watched her, watched this woman he loved beyond all reason, beyond space and time and death itself. Holding the straps of her tunic up with one hand she turned and gave him a heated glance over her shoulder. She knew he wouldn't be far behind, and she was right.

He'd follow her to the ends of the earth and beyond. He'd follow her anywhere.

* * *

_***The is he last of the chapters. The story concludes with epilogue (to be posted very soon). Thanks so much for reading and commenting!***_


	16. Chapter 16

Epilogue

_One mile north of Hierakonpolis_**  
**_Anwar Province, southern Egypt_**  
**_1905_

"Holy shit."

The young woman rocked back on her heels, muttering an astonished curse.

No way. No way in hell. She couldn't believe it, but here it was. She'd found it—the proof of a mythical king's existence, the evidence she'd been searching for. Carefully, reverently, she traced the heavy pages of the ancient manuscript, bound together into some kind of book embossed with gold.

The realization made her head spin. This book—what she had just found in the antechamber of an unmarked tomb—this was the personal diary of Maala-Nefer, a powerful queen who ruled the Naqada tribes almost five thousand years ago. And she wrote it for her great-grandson. Her great-grandson who happened to be Narmer, also known as Menes. The ruler who united the tribes of the Upper and Lower Kingdoms.

The king who would become the very first Pharaoh.

Seeing faint lettering on the last page, she leaned forward, pushing an errant strand of blonde hair out of her eyes and absently touching the mandala she wore around her neck—a gift from her long-dead father.

It was not the clean, precise work of a scribe. Instead, the hieroglyphics were frail, unsteady. It looked like the handwriting of someone very old. She could just make out the words:

_I write these things for you, dear one, so that you may know the noble work of your ancestors. Never forget that you are descended not only of royalty, but from the divine itself. That burden rests upon your shoulders now, and it is one you must bear with humility and honor._

_My parents, the Oracle and the Silah, were touched by the gods, sent to our land in a time of need. They lived a long and peaceful life, treasuring the happiness that had been given to them. They had no other children—I was their only daughter. But they lived to see my children's children and the flourishing of our people._

_'And how does their story end?' you may ask. It doesn't. _

_One day, after the birth of my last grandchild, they went down to the banks of the river, to the place under the large cypress tree. Their hair was sprinkled with white, but they looked much the same as the day I found each of them—by that very river. They went out together at sunset, never to return. Some say that they fell to a leopard or a crocodile, but I know better. Their work here was done, and the gods took them back._

_There is a legend among our people, of the Oracle and the Silah. It is said that they came from the heavens, that their story repeats throughout time—a symbol of the gods' never-ending love for mankind. Each is called upon to bear a heavy burden, to suffer, to hold back the dark. But they also remind us that such burdens need not be borne alone. That love can bloom in the unlikeliest of places, and that nothing is ever lost that cannot be found again. That even though hope may be gone, and the abyss may threaten to swallow the light, there is always a power deeper and stronger than this. That while the pain may be great, love is greater still._

_This is their purpose—and this is your heritage._

Suddenly a voice cut through the silence. "CARA! Cara, are you in there?"

The Cara in question was one Caroline Cassandra Thrace— archaeologist, adventurer, part-time cardsharp and full-time gunslinger. She looked up from the ancient manuscript just in time to see a tall, broad-shouldered man ducking through the antechamber's narrow doorway.

"You need something, Karl?" Cara tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. "Don't mind me. I'm just over here making the archaeological discovery of the century." She gave him a trademark wink and grinned.

She'd met Karl Agathon in the middle of a bar fight in a two-bit mining town in southern Colorado. Outnumbered 10 to 1, the ranch hand from west Texas had gotten into a world of hurt for trying out his charms on a pretty young brunette who also happened to be the sheriff's daughter. They'd gotten run out of there faster than you could shake a stick, but not before Cara managed to significantly lighten some pockets with a few hands of poker.

"I don't care if you just discovered aliens from outer space," Karl said. "None of that's going to matter if the powers that be won't let us stick around." He glanced nervously in the direction of the tunnels that led outside. "We've got company."

Cara rolled her eyes. The British government was always trying to poach on the discoveries of any non-British archaeologists, and often used the military as a guise to take over the best dig sites. Especially when it came to those pesky Americans who were better at their trade than Her Majesty's counterparts. And if that American happened to be a loudmouth, cigar-smoking woman who could handle a six shooter better than most cowboys, well, she was used to weekly visits about some "problem" or other.

Cara reached for her rifle. "Mercenaries again?"

"Not this time. This time they sent an officer. A cavalry officer."

Cara shrugged. She'd be damned if she let some glorified equestrian take her away from this dig site. She couldn't explain it, but she felt drawn to this place—and there was no way she was walking away from the discovery she'd just carefully traced the cover of the ancient book, her thoughts still tangled in the story of Kara and Lee.

"Uh—Cara," Karl began, "I don't think we should keep him waiting. He's a bit… tightly wound. And he's definitely not happy."

"Well what's this tight-ass officer's name?"

"Captain Adams, I think he said."

"Tell him to keep his pants on—I'm coming." Cara stood up and brushed the dust off her breeches. She gently placed the book in her bag.

Taking one last glance at the empty burial chamber she smiled to herself, stepped through the doorway and went to meet her fate.

**The end.**

* * *

A note on the dorky historical stuff:

Like RDM, I reserve the right to make shit up (and I do, like all the time), but there are actually quite a few real world tie-ins I used when coming up with this story. I have Kara and Lee living around 3200 BC/BCE-about a hundred years before the Upper and Lower Kingdoms were finally united under one ruler. The place where I have their fictional tribe is actually the city of Nekhen which was one of the city states in Upper Egypt that united with the others to form the Upper Kingdom. (The city of Naqada was where I imagined the main city of the Northern tribes was- the one that Lee and Maala visited and where the king lived.)

Narmer comes from the Narmer palatte, which was discovered in 1898. Menes is the Greek name for a mythical figure who is believed to have united the two kingdoms, although some scholars believe this is the same guy as Narmer. No one knows for sure. Some think it's the mystical Scorpion King (yes, as in that movie with The Rock).

Maala is of course a fictional character, but I don't think it's a stretch to imagine that there were some seriously awesome queens and kings in Narmer's ancestral line who were instrumental in getting the whole "uniting the tribes thing" going. I have Lee as kicking off this plan in a way (since he's the master negotiator), and I see Maala as finishing the work he started with the unification process-although I don't put it past her to draw on some of Kara's fondness for using military methods to 'persuade' the occasional wayward tribe to join up too. In my mind, she's the perfect blend of our lovely pilots (as one might expect, since they end up raising her.)

I'm sure there are historical errors all over the place, although I did try not to make them too glaring. There may be too many references to trees and forests, although I believe back then the land was a bit more lush and less desert-like than it is today. And my fictional Qena tribe start out as probably a little too primitive for that time in Egyptian history (as I really didn't come up with the epilogue and thus my endgame until I was about three chapters into the story), as there was a lot of trade on the Nile- which is why I kind of why I had to backpeddle and make them more like the Hobbits in LotR who are all about not getting involved in the events of the outside world. At least, not at first.

And mostly, I just wanted pilots to (finally) get their happy ending. And if said ending involved influencing the course of human history forever, and helping to develop one of the most advanced and forward-thinking civilizations the world has ever known, well that's okay too. )

As for our more modern pilot counterparts, the British army occupied Egypt at this point in time and had done so since 1882, but by 1905 the climate was beginning to change, and a wave of nationalism and increasing skirmishes between the people and the army (a major one happening the very next year in fact) led to a series of events that would end with Egyptian independence. That wouldn't be accomplished in full until 1952, but the seeds for all of that start here. So it seemed like a fun time to throw our kids into the mix. (And who knows? Maybe cavalry!Lee will pull a Lawrence of Arabia and help the locals. I wouldn't put it past Cara/Kara to get involved in the action as well. :D) Seems like no matter where they land, those kids always end up having something to do. *g*

Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting along the way. I hope you enjoyed it! I was great fun to tell this story. - B


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